Drowned in Tears
by H.P. Smutfict
Summary: Draco/Hermione 7th year. A tale of secrets, friendship, betrayal, addiction and finding love through the discovery of mutual taboo passions. Chapters 5 and 6 up!
1. Disillusionment

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, and once you read this story you will see how fortunate that is. I also do not own Star Wars, Twin Peaks, or any other movie, television show or comic I may rip off over the course of writing this story.

Drowned In Tears

By H.P. Smutfict

_Lo! 'tis a gala night  
Within the lonesome latter years!  
An angel throng, bewinged, bedight  
In veils, and drowned in tears,  
Sit in a theatre, to see  
A play of hopes and fears,  
While the orchestra breathes fitfully  
The music of the spheres._

-Edgar Allan Poe, _The Conqueror Worm_

~Chapter One~

Disillusionment

Platform nine and three-quarters was crowded just as it always was on the first of September. Hermione knew she should have been excited to be starting her final year at Hogwarts, but all she felt was dread. Something much more than the general atmosphere of collective tension was pushing her to run from the jostling crowd that seethed about her. But she fought that instinct and pushed her way onto the Hogwarts Express clutching Crookshanks' basket closely to her.

The ginger cat mewed pathetically; he never did like to be confined. After murmuring a few calming words to her pet, Hermione began her search for a cabin in which to relax for the journey. Quite frankly, Hermione was in no mood to sit with anyone or be forced to make inane small talk, but judging by the crowd she would have little choice in the matter. Every traveling compartment appeared to be taken and everyone but everyone was talking about Voldemort.

Was Voldemort still alive? Was he going to return again? Was Sirius Black's self-sacrifice worth it?

Voldemort. Voldemort. Voldemort. He was all anyone spoke of over the summer, and Hermione was sick of the entire subject. What she wanted now was to relax and perhaps enjoy the calm of an uneventful final year.

Glancing in through the window of one cabin she saw Ron talking animatedly with Lavender. She felt her face burn and, biting her lip, Hermione turned away only to collide with someone's chest.

"Oh my God, Hermione?" 

Flushing a deeper red, Hermione looked up at Harry. Her voice only came out as a whisper when she saw the torment that still lived in her old friend's eyes. "Hi."  His shocked expression made her want to melt into the floor. Hermione tried to push by him. The confusing jumble of sympathy and anger she felt for him made her uncomfortable. It was the anger that won out, though, when he blocked her way. 

"You look wonderful," he said in a low voice, touching one of the curls that had escaped her ponytail and was now spiraling down the side of her face. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Nothing." She jerked her head, pulling the curl from his grasp.

He offered her a sad smile. "I can see that's not true. You look beautiful."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she glared up at him. "What's that supposed to mean? Was I ugly before?"

"Th-that's not what I-"

"What was it you said to me?" She put a hand to her face in mock-reminiscence. "Oh yes... _I don't know what your problem is, no one else wants you, Hermione." _Using all her strength Hermione barged past Harry, knocking him into the wall. 

"I'm sorry," said Harry pathetically to her back as she continued down the corridor in haste.

Without a glance back she spat, "Sod off, Harry." 

In a desperate attempt to remove herself as quickly as possible from Harry's presence, Hermione turned into the nearest cabin where the Patil twins were giggling together over a magazine. Parvati was the first to look up at Hermione and her jaw dropped, brown eyes opened wide. She nudged Padma with her elbow and used her chin to direct her sister's attention to Hermione. Padma turned her head and a similar expression of surprise overtook her countenance.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Hermione smiled and took the seat across from the twins, briefly taking notice of the huge nosegay of purple Heliotrope flowers next to Parvati. "You don't mind if I sit with you two, do you?"

Parvati shook her head to the negative. Finally finding her voice, Padma grinned widely and said with exaggerated sweetness, "I am so glad to see you finally did something with your hair."

"What?" Hermione bristled. The knuckles of the hand holding the handle of Crookshanks' basket turned white. 

Taking the cue from her sister, Parvati spoke up. "Who could know that a coat of new paint could make something like Hagrid's shack look like a palace?" The twins exchanged looks of malevolent mischief.

Hermione rose from her seat, fighting back tears as Padma remarked, "Harry's sure to take you back, now, you know. I would say Ron would too, but he and Lavender have hooked up."

"Yes," agreed Parvati. "It's a shame, but you know what they say about too little, too late."

"Or maybe too MUCH, but still too late indeed," Padma said as Hermione marched from the cabin. The corridor was thankfully devoid of life, except for the Creevey brothers. She ignored their obvious surprise at her new and improved appearance and brushed by them.

It took everything in her power not to punch Colin when he snapped a photo of her, the flash leaving green spots before her eyes. Why was everyone making such a fuss over her transformation? _Was I truly so hideous before? _she wondered.

Breathing a loud sigh of relief when she finally found an empty cabin, Hermione flung herself into the velvet seat and willed herself not to cry. She refused to give anyone that satisfaction, even if they never knew. 

When she unlatched Crookshanks' basket, the huge animal bounded out, jumped to the seat across from her and immediately began to sharpen his claws on the backrest. Shreds of velvet and stuffing flew through the air and the young woman couldn't help but to laugh.

"Crookshanks!" She swatted the cat lightly on the rump. "Stop that!" He hissed in response and continued to decimate the upholstery. Not knowing what else to do, Hermione waited until he was finished and then pulled out her wand. "Reparo!" And the seat looked as if her cat had never touched it.

Crookshanks glared at the newly repaired seat. After sniffing it, he turned to give Hermione a look that could only be perceived as a scowl if he were capable of producing such an expression. The cat yawned then flopped down on the seat and proceeded to take his late morning, pre-lunch nap.

Hermione tried to concentrate on reading her new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, but her mind insisted on replaying the spiteful words of the Patil twins over and over. They'd made snotty remarks to her in the past, but nothing this blatantly cruel. What she couldn't understand was why they would be so mean in the first place. What had she done to deserve it? Perhaps the makeover she'd given herself had indeed been a mistake. 

_Perfect ending to a perfectly horrid summer, _she decided, staring out at the swiftly passing countryside.__

It had all begun so wonderfully. She and Ron had begun to date during the first week of the Hogwarts summer program that Dumbledore had set up in response to the Voldemort threat. Harry, in an attempt to distract himself from the pain of losing his godfather, had talked Ron and Hermione into taking their friendship to the next level because, as he explained, he was tired of watching them tiptoe around their feelings for each other. 

Of course Hermione hadn't put up much of an argument. Ron had always been cute, and since he'd let his hair grow out he was almost roguishly handsome. She was blissfully happy with their innocent romance for the first few weeks... until about a month into it when Ron carved their initials into the lover's tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

*****

"What's this all about, Ron?" Hermione asked, trying to hide her elation at the sight of 'R.W.+H.G.' surrounded by a lopsided heart. She smiled at the red-haired young man, her eyes sparkling.

He blushed almost as red as his hair. "I just want you to see how much I really care for you," he explained.

"Oh?"

"Yes." He gently pushed her against the tree and kissed her. The kiss was rough, but it wasn't unpleasant. In fact, Hermione liked the flip-floppy sensation in her stomach. When he clumsily grabbed her breast, however, Hermione gasped and pushed him away.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"C'mon, 'Mione," whined Ron, "we've been together a month now..."

"What's that got to do with anything?" She crossed her arms stubbornly and glared at him.

"Well, Hannah only dated me for a week before we did it and..."

"_Did it?" _Hermione squeaked in an outraged voice. "You mean... _sex?_"

"Don't be so naive," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of course I mean _sex_. You act as if you'd never done it before."

"I haven't!" Hermione shook her head.

"Oh come on... are you telling me you and Viktor never-."

"No! That's... disgusting!" Hermione began to stalk away toward the castle, but Ron grabbed her hand. With a tug he whipped her about and pulled her into his embrace.

"I love you," he murmured before she had the chance to react.

Hermione's body stiffened at his words. "Huh?" was all she could bring herself to say.

Ron lowered his mouth down to hers. "I love you," he repeated before kissing her once again. Hermione felt giddy in response to his words. She'd never in her wildest dreams believed any man would tell her he loved her. Wrapping her arms around her boyfriend's neck she returned his kiss with all the passion she could muster. This time, when she felt him paw her breast, she did not pull away.

"What is going on here?" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice rang out. The young couple jumped apart and looked up into the older woman's livid face. She was one of the many parents who'd volunteered to help with the summer program since most of the teachers refused to give up their summer vacations.

"Nothing!" snapped Ron, irritated at his mother's interference.

"Don't you use that tone of voice with me, young man!" She shook her index finger in Ron's face then grabbed his ear.

"Ow!"

Mrs. Weasley continued, " I can see perfectly well that you are trying to take advantage of sweet, innocent Hermione." She began to drag her son back to the castle by his ear. "Well, not on my watch, mister!"

*****

The hiss of the train compartment door sliding open brought Hermione back from her reverie. Looking up, she was shocked to see Draco slink in and close the door behind him. He barely offered her a glance before shoving Crookshanks onto the floor and taking the seat across from her. The cat shot Draco a nasty glare, stretched and then hopped up onto the seat next to his mistress to finish his nap.

Hermione's mouth was slightly agape as she peered across the aisle at the young man who'd so rudely invaded her private space. Malfoy had changed over the summer. There was something different that had nothing to do with his obviously matured appearance, though Hermione could not quite grasp what that was. He gazed back at her through a lock of silvery blond hair that had fallen over his face, his expression impassive, and his gray eyes sleepy.

"Do you have a problem, Granger?" He crossed his arms over his chest and Hermione noticed his shoulders had broadened since she'd seen him last.

She shrugged. "Not really." Hermione was doing her best to hide her prejudice against the Death Eater spawn. He couldn't help who his parents were, after all.

"Good," he retorted in a bored voice, "because even if you did, I'm not leaving."

"Whatever." Hermione opened her book back up and attempted to read. She didn't get very far, however, when a chill pulsed down her back. Looking up, she found Draco's eyes perusing her. Feeling suddenly exposed in the tiny pleated uniform skirt she was wearing for the first time since she'd had it altered to a more flattering length, Hermione tugged at the hem to try and cover the thigh he was so obviously staring at. Realizing she'd caught him looking, Draco returned his gaze out the window. Hermione went back to her reading. 

Moments later the chill returned and she knew he was looking at her again. Bracing herself for what she believed was an imminent smart remark, she asked, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to say something?"

He yawned. "What would you like me to say?"

Hermione didn't respond at first. Draco acting so... un-Draco-like flustered her. "Aren't you going to insult me?"

"Would you like me to insult you? I wasn't aware you were into that sort of thing, Granger." His mouth twisted into an impish grin.

"What?" she asked, confused. Draco raised an eyebrow at her and she suddenly felt as if she missed something she shouldn't have. "Oh... never mind." She looked away, blushing at the horrible chuckle that assaulted her ears.

Resting her forehead against the window, Hermione listened to the rhythmic chugging of the train. The sound lulled away her tensions and her eyes slowly closed.

*****

"Problem solved," Ron whispered into her ear as he sat down for breakfast and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"And what problem is that?" Hermione glanced up from the _Daily Prophet_. Ron grinned at her then kissed her gently under her left earlobe, a place that always gave her the shivers.

"It's a surprise," he said in a low voice. "But I'll tell you this... my mum won't be able to disturb us _this_ time."

Hermione gave him her most sincere smile. "I can't wait," she lied. Four times they'd attempted to consummate their love and all four times Mrs. Weasley had happened along at the most inopportune moment. Ron's mother seemed to have a sixth sense about the matter, and for that Hermione was secretly grateful.

_Smack!_ Her book hitting the train floor brought Hermione back to the present. She looked up to see that Draco was nowhere to be found and the door was open. Half-hoping he was not going to return, Hermione stood and stretched. Recognizing the squeaking and clattering of the snack cart, she walked into the corridor and found herself face to chest with Draco who, judging by the bottle of pumpkin juice and assorted snacks in his hands, had the same idea as she.

He said nothing but looked down at her, frowning. His eyes looked strange... they held none of the cold arrogance of the Draco she had come to know and despise. No... these eyes seemed to hold a torment that Hermione could not begin to grasp. But that was ridiculous; a rich spoiled boy like Draco could never be tormented could he? 

His spicy, exotic cologne wafted over her and she felt dizzy; her stomach began to churn madly. Deciding she must be allergic to the fragrance, she stepped to her right to go around him, just as he did the same. She moved to her left, as did he. This happened several more times before Hermione lost patience.

"Wait," she said, putting her hands on Draco's shoulders to ensure that he didn't move. His arms were hard and muscular beneath the cool silk of his shirt; he was so obviously not the scraggly boy she'd met in their first year. A lump formed in her throat. "You stay still," she croaked out and attempted to slip through the narrow space between him and the wall, refusing to look at his face. 

Her left breast brushed over the hand that held the chilled bottle of pumpkin juice, and they both froze. A bolt of sensation charged from where his knuckles grazed her nipple. From the top of the bottle a droplet of cold condensation fell onto her breast where it peeked from decolletage of her low-cut white blouse. The bead of moisture rolled over the curve of her breast and met that very same nipple which was in contact with Draco Malfoy's hand. Waves of gooseflesh erupted all over her skin and she visibly shivered.

Panic-stricken and humiliated at her body's reaction to her enemy's physical contact, Hermione jerked away and hurried to the cart. She was just paying for her own pumpkin juice when she heard a familiar voice in the cabin behind her.

"The nerve of her," complained Padma. "That Granger girl shows up looking like THAT and she's already trying to seduce Malfoy."

"Yes," agreed her sister, "it wasn't enough that she shagged Ron and Harry."

Padma responded with a snort. "She'll be going after Neville next."

With a furrowed brow, Hermione scuttled back to her compartment where she stopped short at the door. With quaking hands, Draco was measuring out a few drops of a green, glowing potion of some sort into his pumpkin juice. It was obvious from the way he was half-turned with his back toward the door that he was trying to hide his actions. 

Not wanting to be accused of spying, Hermione slid the door shut with a dramatic bang. The young man started and looked up with an odd expression. Pretending not to notice, Hermione flopped down and resumed her pretended act of reading. Over the top of her book she surreptitiously peeked at Draco who was audibly gulping down his dimly glowing juice. When he was finished, he tossed the empty bottle to the seat beside him and continued to gaze broodingly out the window.

If he weren't Draco Malfoy she would have allowed herself to be attracted to the young man reclining before her. He truly was beautiful now that maturity had begun refining and softening his features. The potion was having a quick but steady effect and Hermione watched as his expression lightened and a smile began to play on his full lips. His almost feminine lips would have been Hermione's favorite feature if she allowed herself to think that way. At a close second would have been those pale eyes of his, the way he looked at her through his silvery eyelashes and lifted one eyebrow at her would have been devastating had she been able to acknowledge it. 

Take, for example, the way he gazed at her at the moment. His eyes no longer held the appearance of deeply disturbed fathomless pools, instead they appeared inquisitive, boring into hers, causing her to blush right down to the tips of her elbows. 

When Malfoy smirked at her she quickly turned her face away, thoroughly mystified at the fact that they had been staring at each other for at least five minutes. Much to her surprise she heard no self-satisfied chuckle or disparaging remark from her travel-mate.

Instead Draco inquired, "So, why aren't you with Potty and Weasel?"

Hearing no mockery in his voice, Hermione looked up to study Draco's face. Although he used his insulting nicknames for her former comrades, she could not find sarcasm in his voice. Had he not heard the rumors? Mystified at his seeming sincere interest, Hermione responded with a shrug and a sad smile.

Not wanting to seem rude Hermione asked, "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

Draco returned her shrug. "Just felt like being somewhere quiet."

"Oh. I guess I feel the same way today." She managed a wan smile.

Those were the last words they spoke during the journey. Hermione kept her nose buried in her far too boring textbook and Draco fell asleep. At one point after Crookshanks' afternoon snack, the ginger cat jumped up onto the young man's chest and napped there for the rest of the train ride.

"Traitor," Hermione hissed at her pet, only to receive in response a baleful yellow glare and a flick of a fluffy tail.

Hermione was able to focus her mind on everything but Malfoy until they arrived at Hogsmeade Station. As Hermione was boarding one of the horseless carriages that would bear them to Hogwarts castle, her foot became entangled in her robes.

She was tumbling forward when a hand grabbed her elbow to offer her support. Looking up, Hermione found herself staring wide-eyed into the face of Draco.

"Thank you," she mumbled, taking a seat. He did not respond but slid in right next to her, much Hermione's surprise. What was happening with the young man that he would shun the company of his Slytherin cronies and instead choose her presence?

Although this was a short journey she had taken many times before, the tension of Draco's presence made it feel like an eternity. Because they were not alone both felt the need to keep up the pretext of animosity and so did not communicate at all.  Every time one of them moved, their legs or arms rubbed together. It was nerve-wracking, to say the least, and by the time they arrived at their destination Hermione's nerves were in tatters. 

As she alighted the stairs at the entrance of Hogwarts Hermione felt a presence behind her. "See you around, Granger," Draco whispered close to her ear, his breath a caress on her flesh. Then he brushed by her and became lost in his push to the front of the crowd.

**Excerpt from the journal of Hermione Granger dated July twentieth.**

 _I cannot believe it, my first real relationship is over and it wasn't even two whole months long. And the way it ended was just horrible. I can honestly express that last night had been the worst of my life._

_Ron's surprise turned out to be a room at the inn at Hogsmeade. Apparently he'd told his brothers Fred and George about his frustration at Mrs. Weasley foiling his plans at... getting me alone… and they'd paid for a room for us. It was a sweet gesture, I suppose._

_Unfortunately, they'd gotten us the honeymoon suite and that room had to be the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. Everywhere I looked there were nothing but cherubs and hearts. And the bed, oh just the thought of it made me want to run in fear. It was a circular platform that hovered in the center of the room and revolved slowly when you gave the command._

_The worst thing is that between the free champagne and the motion sickness caused by the bed, I got so sick. I would have thought he'd understand, but a side of Ron Weasley emerged that I'd never seen before._

_When I told Ron that I couldn't go through with our... um... consummation, he got so mean! The last thing he said before he stormed out was, "It's not like anyone else will ever want to screw you."_

_He said he loved me. How can he say that to someone he supposedly loves?_

_Is it true? Does no one else find me attractive?_


	2. Tension

Disclaimer: *looks in mirror* Nope, my polyjuice potion didn't work, I am not JK Rowling, so I still do not own Harry Potter. 

Drowned In Tears

~Chapter 2~

Tension

"Oh, Drakie! There you are!" came a smarmy, adenoidal voice from Draco's left side as he entered the doors of the Great Hall. Cringing at the pet name, he stopped and turned to look down into the puggish smile of Pansy Parkinson. _My betrothed, _he thought with distaste.

Summoning up his most serpentine smile, Draco said, "Yes, here I am." His voice came out far more patronizing than he'd intended but the girl, as usual, was oblivious.

"I didn't see you on the Express," whined Pansy. "I looked for you but I couldn't find you." She stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout and tilted her freckled face in a futile attempt to gaze up at him coyly. 

Clenching his jaw, Draco resisted the urge to slap the young woman just for the effect her voice had on his nerves. Being in no mood for a confrontation, young Malfoy did what Malfoys did best. He lied. "I looked for you, too, but I had a headache and just ended up sitting alone."

"You looked for me?" Pansy's countenance brightened for a moment before darkening with suspicion. "Are you sure? You've been having a lot of headaches lately."

Draco reached into the inner pocket of his robes, feeling around for something he kept for such occasions. "Yes, I really did look for you," he assured her. Locating a velvet box he withdrew it and held it out. "I was really disappointed because I wanted to give you this." The gift had its desired immediate effect.

Pansy squealed, "Oooohhh... for me?" She flipped open the lid and squealed again when she saw the sparkling platinum earrings. "Oooohhh... they're lovely! What do they do?"

"Um..." Draco glanced into the box to check which trinket he'd given her. He kept many such boxes secreted in his robes for bribing away her childish drama. "Oh, those are enchanted to fill your ears with beautiful music that only you can hear."

Standing on her toes, Pansy placed a juicy kiss on Draco's cheek and he grimaced. He hoped she would quickly run off to show off her newest gift to Millicent and the other Slytherin Succubae and leave him in peace. Unfortunately she chose to linger.

"Did you hear, did you hear?" The redhead bounced up and down, jiggling her oversized breasts.

"Did I hear what?" asked Draco distractedly. _At least the girl has one good attribute, or should I say TWO?_

"We have a new headmaster."

"What?"

"Yes. Dumbledore's gone. I heard he was promoted or something. I can't remember the new one's name." She pointed to the head table where a wizened, sour-looking old wizard sat in Dumbledore's place. 

Draco's stomach did a double flip. "Sawney Beane," he whispered, suddenly feeling the need for an early dose of his potion. 

"Yes!" Pansy chirped. "That's it!" She looked up into Draco's gray-cast face with a look of concern. "Are you okay, Drakie?"

Putting his hand to his forehead, Draco said, "I think my headache's coming back. I'll, um, be right back... see you at the table." He sauntered off to the lavatory. On his way, the Grey Lady crossed his path. Her filmy form stopped directly before him and stopped. 

Turning toward him, she whispered. "I know what you did, Draco." The young Slytherin's body hair stood on end. He swallowed hard. "I know what YOU did," the ghost repeated, pointing accusatorily at him. The room around Draco appeared to swirl as feelings of guilt and regret rose to the surface of his consciousness. With a choking squeal, he ran to the washrooms as fast as he could.

When a refreshed Draco returned a short while later, his robes and hair were slightly damp from the water he'd splashed on his face. He wore a slight smile of potion-induced contentment that only broadened when he saw Pansy sitting amongst her friends with no empty seats near her. Hurrying past before she could notice his return, Draco took the seat that Crabbe and Goyle had saved him. Their idiocy was much more preferable than Pansy's.

After exchanging brief nods of salutations with his cronies, Draco observed Professor McGonagall entering with her procession of first year students. Malfoy rolled his eyes as the ratty old sorting hat began the new song it had composed for the new year. 

Tuning the sound out, Draco gazed about him, deliberately keeping his eyes from the new headmaster. Even with the extra dose of potion Beane's presence distressed Draco. Memories best left forgotten pushed at the edges of his mind and suppressed a shudder.

Finding nothing of interest to watch at this own house's table, Draco looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindors. The first thing he noticed was that the rumor was apparently true, as the Golden Trio was not sitting together. Harry was sitting at the end closest to the head table and Parvati (or was it Padma? He never could tell them apart), who had a few sprigs of Heliotrope flowers in her hair, was blatantly flirting with him. At the distant end of the table near the doors, Ron was cuddling with Lavender Brown while simultaneously staring at Hermione with a poisonous glare. Hermione, seated toward the center of the table next to Neville, was reading one of the thin, blue booklets that were at each student's place setting.

_Leave it to Granger to read something before she was ordered to do it, _thought Draco. It was obvious to him that it was only her outsides that had changed. She was still the same brainy over-achiever on the inside. _Beautiful and smart, _mused Draco, _what an odd combination.  Though it is much preferable to the opposite condition. _He stole a glance at Pansy and shuddered. When he turned his focus back to Hermione their eyes met and Draco quickly turned away. Looking up to the sorting ceremony, he was just in time to see a gangly, freckled girl bounce toward the Hufflepuff table to a chorus of polite applause. 

Over the years Draco had come to realize how stultifyingly boring the sorting ceremony really was. He and many of his classmates often complained about the idiocy of forcing hungry students to watch a gaggle of eleven-year-olds try on an article of garrulous headwear. No one except the ones being sorted cared anyway, so why couldn't they have their little ritual during the meal?

And these first years... Draco shook his head as he examined the lot, deciding most of them were obviously Mudbloods and Squibs. One young first year caught Draco's attention as the boy looked Squibbier than Neville. He was almost as broad as he was tall, his robes were stained with grease and crumbs, and his doughy, piglet face held a look of utter disdainful stupidity as he looked down his nose at the student body. Draco sneered at the snowfall of dandruff sifting from the boy's greasy brown hair onto the black wool of his robes.

There was something about this new student that aroused a bitter feeling of sadism within Draco (something never far from his surface in any account). He couldn't quite grasp what it was about him, but Draco felt inspired to cause hurt and humiliation to the boy. Pulling out his wand and holding it out under the table, Draco gave it a gentle swish-and-flick. "_Insinuatum Gordia,"_ Draco whispered.

The laces of the black oxfords worn by the first year rose as if by their own accord. The tips did a momentary snake dance before entwining multiple times to create an impossibly complex knot. 

At that exact moment, McGonagall called out, "Fudge, Packer!" The name caught Draco's attention.

_Fudge? As in Cornelius Fudge? _wondered Draco as he watched the boy whose shoelaces he just tied together respond to the name. _Only the Minister of Magic would name his son **Packer.**_ Draco watched in detached amusement as Packer Fudge tried to walk forward and take his turn with the sorting hat. Packer pitched forward with a guttural "Ugh." and the room, already quiet out of respect for the ceremony fell totally silent. The splatter of Packer's blubber colliding with the marble floor was exaggerated in the vacuum of sound. Then, as if on cue, the entire room was engulfed in laughter. 

_I did that! _thought Draco as he sniggered in his typical fashion. Hagrid and Headmaster Beane, two of the very few in the room who were not laughing, rushed forward to assist Professor McGonagall with the floundering boy. For a moment Hagrid had managed to return the overweight child to an upright position, but Packer immediately fell face-first to the ground, this time evidently knocked unconscious. The headmaster mumbled something. Hagrid nodded and tossed Packer over his shoulder to carry the boy from the hall with all the ceremony of a jobber hauling a sack of grain.

The room, having nothing further to laugh at, soon quieted and the sorting ritual continued without further interruption. Once every new student, with the obvious exception of Packer Fudge, was sorted into his or her proper house, Headmaster Sawney Beane arose to say a few words before the start of the feast.

"Dearest students, you may well have noticed by now that an unfamiliar face now sits in this chair." 

Beane paused dramatically, just long enough for Crabbe to mutter, "How can a face sit in a chair?"

"Yeah," agreed Goyle, "that makes no sense."

"Will you two shut up?" muttered Draco, already perturbed enough by hearing Beane's voice. He didn't need the added irritation of Crabbe and Goyle acting like fools. 

Beane continued, "Our dear Professor Dumbledore has had his long and exalted years of service recognized and he has been elevated to the position of _Professor Emeritus. _This position will allow Dumbledore to have a much greater hand in the overall administration, welfare, and well being of the wizard world. Unfortunately his new and important tasks will divert him from his headmastery of Hogwarts. Thus, I shall humbly but firmly take the reigns of the day-to-day operations in hand. I would call your attention to the pamphlets and release forms provided to orient you with some of the much-needed changes that are about to be implemented here at Hogwarts. I trust that your full cooperation and enthusiasm can be counted upon. It would certainly be in your best interests. Thank you."

Beane's strange speech was soon forgotten as the sumptuous feast materialized on the tables. As usual, Draco's appetite disappeared when confronted with food. He picked at the perfectly prepared cheese fondue. It had always been a favorite of the young man, and now he was terribly disappointed that it was being served at Hogwarts and his appetite had gone to sleep again. With a wistful sigh he nibbled at a chunk of crusty French bread.

"Oh Great Merlin!" Hermione burst out loud enough to reach the ears of some of those at the Slytherin table. Draco turned around in his seat in hopes of seeing Hermione make a fool of herself; her mealtime antics never failed to amuse him. "Neville, don't sign that!" She jerked the sheet of paper from her classmate's grasp.

Neville looked up fearfully, expecting to be petrified by her again. "What? What did I do?" The young man cringed behind his uplifted hands. He looked around and blushed madly as he saw that all eyes were on him and Hermione.

"You didn't do anything, Neville." Hermione touched him on the shoulder comfortingly and Neville relaxed a bit.

Draco's eyes narrowed as he thought, _Granger has the worst taste in bosom companions, I wonder if Neville is next on her list of Things To Do. _

Hermione lifted her chin and declared loudly to all within earshot, "Don't sign that form unless you've read the booklet!""

Draco glanced down at his signature on the sheet in alarm then forced himself to relax as he remembered Hermione's disastrous attempts at freeing the house elves. She'd apparently found a new cause to campaign, and judging by her track record this one was most likely as pointless as the last.

Hermione stood and looked into the faces of her listeners. "Listen to this," and she began to read aloud:

"...these punishments may include but are not limited to deduction of points, detentions or other disciplinary actions as is seen fit. Corporal Punishment may be administered as an additional aid in education and discipline at Hogwarts and shall specifically consist of caning or paddling. The cane shall be of any object less than three feet long and less than the thickness of one's thumb. The paddle may only be of the types approved by the Headmaster. Faculty or prefects under the direction of faculty shall administer discipline. Offenses can be punished by immediate administration or delayed administration as investigation and judgment dictate. Any magical or mechanical means used in an attempt to escape punishment or lessen its severity shall result in additional punishment."

Hermione looked up. "This is barbaric! Corporal Punishment was banned over fifty years ago!"

Many students immediately attempted to magically erase their names from the forms, but to no avail as the forms were apparently enchanted. Draco stood and approached Hermione with a grim face.  "Why don't you shut up, Mudblood? Some of us think this is an excellent idea." His voice sounded so earnest the young man almost had himself convinced. Of course the idea of Potter receiving the cane was a rather pleasant one. Even better would be Granger bent over a desk, her little uniform skirt pulled up, fragile white skin welted, bruised…

Draco mentally slapped himself for even thinking such a thing in such intense detail about _Granger, _of all people.

Hermione looked at him in horrified disbelief. "You won't think so when you are on the receiving end of the cane, Ferret-boy."

Smiling tightly, Draco said, "I'll never be there, but maybe you should be worrying about your own bum." Everyone knew how much trouble the Golden Trio always got themselves into over the course of a given year.

Hermione only laughed and pointed dramatically to the pin on her robe. "Oh, haven't you heard, Malfoy? I'm Head Girl... perhaps it's you who should be worrying." Her eyes held a glint of challenge that only increased Draco's irritation.

Draco raised his eyebrows at her trying not to appear caught off guard by her declaration. He was most embarrassed not to have been in possession of this knowledge. Then it dawned on him; he had not been awarded the Head Boy position. Not that he particularly coveted the office, but he felt he was the boy most deserving of it.  "And who_ is _Head Boy?" Trying to appear unflustered, he pointed at Neville. "Master Squib here?"

Neville, used to such insults, pretended not to hear Draco's words and continued to watch the exchange with interest. Everyone fully expected Hermione to be the next one to turn Draco into a fuzzy animal and abuse him in some way. If there was anyone to do it, it was Hermione.

"Actually I am, Malfoy," came a calm voice from behind Draco. 

The blond wizard turned his head to peer coldly into the green eyes of his rival. For a brief instant Draco's expression could be read as saying, _Oh Bloody Hell. _Only Hermione, whose wide, angry eyes were glued to Draco's face, had noticed it. The young man recovered quickly and was just about to spit out a suitably sarcastic response when Professor Snape interrupted him. 

The malicious professor's expression was even sourer than the scent of magical herbs that hung in the air about him. "Already abusing your status as Head Boy, are you Mister Potter?"

Draco smirked at Harry triumphantly.

Harry said nothing, but stood impassively awaiting Snape's inevitable announcement of the number of points that would be deducted from Gryffindor.

After a brief pause Snape continued, "Do not presume that you are immune to the new rules. Remember, Head Boy, you answer to me and I will not think twice about administering discipline should I see you abusing your position here. Do I make myself clear, Mister Potter?"

"Yes. Sir." intoned Harry blandly.

"Good. Five points from Gryffindor." 

Harry watched the hems of Snape's robes billowing behind the professor as he exited the Great Hall. "I should be used to that by now." Harry shook his head. Then, turning to Malfoy he said, "Hermione has the right to express how she feels. Why not just leave her be?"

Draco attempted to look down his nose at Harry but failed miserably as both boys stood at exactly the same height. "As do I have that very same right, Potter. However, this conversation bores me and I have other things to attend to. See you at the Prefect's meeting this evening." Turning on his heel, Draco exited the hall.

"May I have your attention please?" Headmaster Beane's magically amplified voice echoed through the Great Hall. "Anyone refusing to sign the acknowledgement forms will be escorted from the grounds. Remember, attendance at Hogwarts is a privilege, not a right!"

All eyes were on Hermione as she approached Sawney Beane. "With all due respect, Headmaster," said Hermione, "I don't think our parents would approve of this sort of thing."

Headmaster Beane's leathery face contorted into a most hideous grin. "For your information all the parents of students here now assembled have consented by owl post and these consents are now sitting in my office. Including one from _your_ parents, Miss Granger."  The dour wizard leaned forward in his seat as if daring Hermione to voice further protest.  Hermione, eyes flashing, said nothing, but neither did she sit down.  The new Headmaster flicked a finger, muttered a word under his breath, and the air fluttered in front of him. A sheet of paper appeared in the headmaster's hand.

"Here, if you don't believe me, is one I have just selected at random.  It is from the Dursleys, regarding their boy here, the celebrated Harry Potter. Our very own Head Boy."  Beane peered over at Harry with a look usually only seen on the faces of Very Large Things just before they eat something smaller.  Harry wore the look of a pole-axed cow, and appeared to be turning a rather attractive shade of chartreuse (if chartreuse were a shade that could be regarded as even remotely flattering when applied to a wizard's face). Later it would be recalled by several students that wisps of vapor escaped the First Boy's ears, and the faint sound of a distant overworked calliope was heard.

In a monotone voice, Beane read the letter from the Dursleys much to the horror of Hermione, who, if she hadn't been such a kind-hearted girl would have enjoyed the height of Harry Potter's humiliation. The young witch's eyes, along with hundreds of others stayed locked on the _Boy Who Lived._ Harry managed to maintain a certain amount of composure as the ugly words of his only living relatives were read before his schoolmates. It wasn't until the entire student body burst out into uproarious laughter that Harry finally returned to his seat and slumped into it, ashen-faced.

Hermione walked over to lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, but he angrily shrugged it off.

*****

**The Letter from Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Dursley to Headmaster Beane**__

_Dear Headmaster Beane, Cheers;_

_It is with great pleasure, I might even say delight, that we received your recent communication (although I will never understand why you people insist sending owls instead of simply using the post like normal folks seem fully able to do).   _

_In any case, you may be assured you have our complete consent to administer whatever changes in disciplinary policies as you see fit.  I'm certain that nothing could improve the character of my sister-in-law's boy quite like a good thrashing now and again.  You may also as well box his ears and administer kicks to his backside. If that fails then send him to bed in his closet without his supper._

_We can only hope that you will be as diligent as we were in molding the boy to be an upright and productive member of society, or whatever passes for society among you people. We are very certain the year he spent under the care of that ex-convict, Surly Belch (or whatever his name was) only served to make him more of a nuisance to society than he already was. _

_Very Sincerely,_

_Mr. & Mrs. V. Dursley_

_*****_

Hermione realized it was going to be a very long and interesting year.


	3. Appeasement

Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it again? 

A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, please keep them coming. I really love reading them and knowing that someone else out there is enjoying my work. Without all of you to read it, why would I write? And if you have any complaints or suggestions on the way the storyline is going, please speak up and I will take it into serious consideration.

Drowned In Tears 

Chapter 3

Appeasement

Professor Snape rose with a bundle of papers in his hands and had he worn them, this would have been the time to adjust his glasses. He cleared his throat and turned to address the Head Boy, Head Girl and the rest of the prefects who were gathered in the Prefectorium for the first Prefects Assembly of the new school year. The buzz of conversation died as Snape began to speak.

"I will assume that all of you are now at least partially familiar with the changes Headmaster Beane has implemented," said the Potions Master, throwing Hermione a pointed look. She merely smiled sweetly at him. A vein popped out in Snape's neck and a look of annoyance passed over his face, but he continued with his speech without falter. 

"The purpose of this meeting is to familiarize all of you with the proper procedure for administering corporal punishment." He exchanged a small conspiratorial smile with Draco as he looked upon his favorite student. Draco chewed on a hangnail as he listened, but his eyes continued flying up to the dais where the Head Boy and Girl sat in their positions of honor with the Prefectorial Ministers. Professor McGonagall's seat was conspicuously empty.

As Snape's voice droned on about the minutiae of proper caning, Draco mulled over the council's choice of Harry for the head boy position. He honestly did not care that he hadn't been picked. What bothered the young Slytherin was that they'd chosen Harry out of...pity (that_ had _to be it). Their poor, poor Harry had almost lost his life (yet again) during Voldemort's last attack, and he'd lost his surrogate father (in the form of Sirius Black) as well. Draco was truly sorry for Harry's loss, but it was no excuse to award him an honor that rightfully belonged to a class far beyond Harry's lowly station. 

His eyes locked with Hermione's curious stare._ What is that woman... er, mudblood, lollygazing at now? _Draco fidgeted in his seat and quickly turned his focus back to the Professor's speech. 

"...you will notice that none of the implements selected for administrative discipline may be of a circumference greater than one's thumb." Snape's gaze came to rest upon the skinny digits of Ron Weasley. "And I do mean normal _human thumbs." Ron ducked to hide a scowl._

Snape straightened. " I require a volunteer," he announced, appearing to peruse the assembled prefects. "Mr. Potter." He did not turn to look at the young man he summoned.

For the second time that day, Harry found himself feeling as if he were caught in the headlights of Mr. Weasley's errant flying car. "...Sir?"

"Please, step forward." 

Harry did not rise. "...Sir?"

The Potions Master glowered. "I said I needed a volunteer, Mister Potter. Are you in any way unclear that _you _are that volunteer?" Several students in the back of the room twittered, causing Harry's flush to deepen. The corners of Professor Snape's mouth twitched.

Harry swallowed hard. "No sir."

"Or do you, as Head Boy, feel you are exempt of my directives?"

"No sir," Harry said again.

"Very well. Please. Step. Forward." Snape inclined his eyes to an area generally regarded as front and center.

Harry slowly rose to comply. 

_Not again, _thought Hermione, worried that Harry was close to his breaking point. Unable to understand Snape's almost obsessive need to single out Harry, she watched as he reluctantly made his way toward the chair that had walked itself to center stage following a casual wave of Professor Snape's wand.

Harry was instructed to kneel upon the chair, lean over the backrest and grab the rear legs as far down as he could. With another flourish of his wand, Snape was suddenly holding a regulation-correct willow switch. Several female prefects, including Hermione, stifled sharp intakes of breath. The professor lifted the switch high above his head then paused.

"Now," he snapped, and Harry tensed visibly, "would be the time when the required number of strokes would be administered… HERE!" Snape brought the willow switch down, stopping a mere fraction of a centimeter from Harry's tightly clenched buttocks. Having the full attention of every prefect in the room, Snape cracked an out-of-character mischievous grin and tapped the Head Boy lightly on the bottom.

"Mr. Potter, I no longer require your services. You may return to your seat." 

Harry's tightly squinted eyes slowly opened in surprise with the dawning realization that Snape had been toying with him. He stood and blinked up at the professor, who said, "Oh, and one point to Gryffindor." 

As Harry walked back to his seat, his eyes met Hermione's. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes she whispered, "One point. How generous."

Harry made no response except for a snort that he quickly covered up with a cough. The tension between them seemed to have eased somewhat. As Snape made a few closing remarks, Hermione watched Harry with concern. He stared intensely at the floor, indiscernible expressions flowing over his face. Hermione waited patiently for a chance to speak to him, but upon dismissal of the meeting Harry was the first out the door behind Professor Snape. 

Hermione, caught in the swirling milieu of departing prefects, watched in disappointment as he disappeared out the door. She pushed past Ron, who was looking at her as if he meant to speak to her. With her hip she knocked against Padma, causing the young woman to utter an expletive, which would normally have caused Hermione to blush. The disappearing form of Harry was her only focus and so she was not aware that someone had stepped on the trailing hem of her robes. She and the person tumbled to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs.

Hermione groaned; her eyes tightly shut as the pain of her bruised hip spread up her back and down her left leg. She was pinned to the floor by the person who had landed atop her and when she opened her eyes she found herself gazing into a sea of stormy gray. Draco sneered down at her.

"Graceless mudblood," he muttered. She could taste his breath on her lips.  

Hermione opened her mouth to mutter a response, but before she could order Draco to remove himself from her she heard Padma hiss, "Slut." She stomped away, her heels banging loudly.

Malfoy's robes had twisted beneath Hermione and when he attempted to right himself he immediately fell back down, crushing her beneath his weight. She squeaked as the air was forced out of her.

"Get... off me... you bloody... ferret," she rasped, attempting to push the young man off. Unfortunately, her force only succeeded in shifting him into a more uncomfortable position atop her. Something, probably his wand, pressed painfully into the tender flesh of her inner left thigh.

Malfoy did not move. He only continued to look down at her, his expression as much an enigma as ever. Hermione, lips parted, was breathing more heavily than her recent exertion might call for. She felt dizzy breathing in the dark musk of his scent... making a quick mental note to herself to ascertain what fragrance he used as she wanted to be careful to avoid it in the future.

"Don't ferret me, Granger, this predicament is _your _fault."

"Just get off me... NOW!" The young witch felt panic-stricken with claustrophobia at Malfoy's extreme proximity.

"Relax, will you?" he said impatiently, trying to disentangle himself from Hermione, doing his best to ignore the way her chocolate eyes flashed, the way her moist raspberry-pink lips were pursed in frustration. "There's nothing to get so worked up about."

"Having you on top of me is enough to get worked up over, Malfoy!" Her voice quavered.

"I'm sorry, I don't have time for anything else, Granger," he said dryly. Thinking he had his robes dislodged he attempted to stand, but again fell back down.

Hermione winced. "Ow!" She looked up at him then looked away, uncomfortable with the way he looked down upon her. "And _stop calling me Granger... I hate that!"_

"Fine." He paused for a moment before finally uttering, "Hermione..."

She glanced at him then averted her gaze yet again. When she turned her face back to his seconds later, his mouth was closer to hers than she, in her darkest nightmares, had ever dreamed. His soft lips descended, down... down to cover hers. But just as his flesh was about to make contact, it was gone.

Reality made its unpleasant presence known as she saw Draco dragged to his feet by Ron Weasley. Hermione had never seen such a look of absolute fury as she now saw on her ex-boyfriend's face. 

"What the hell are you doing with MY... with Hermione... you poxy boggard!" snarled Ron. In horror she watched as Ron's fist arched through the air and made contact with Draco's cheek. _Whap! _She heard a scream echo through the hall. It took a moment to register that the voice was her own.

Draco made one move and pinned the taller redhead to the wall by his spindly neck. "How dare you touch me, Weasley." His voice was low and calm. Draco could have been discussing the weather for all the emotion that was belied by his voice. Ron paled, the mahogany of his freckles becoming more exaggerated by the pallor of the skin beneath. The bold Weasley began to sputter and flail, his fury now replaced by the realization that his jealous rage had landed him in greater jeopardy than he'd anticipated.

Hermione did not stay to witness the outcome of this drama. She pulled herself from the floor and ran, resuming her interrupted pursuit of Harry. At least that's why she told herself she was running. Having no intention of even acknowledging the disturbing emotions that threatened to expose themselves to her, she continued her haphazard flight through the sparsely populated halls_. Hermione wasn't quite sure where she was headed. All she knew was that she wanted to get away from Draco, away from Ron... and she needed to find Harry, too... She hadn't even noticed that she had left the castle itself until her legs gave out from beneath her. Clutching her right side, she fell to her knees just outside the Quidditch field. _

When she regained her breath and poise Hermione finally looked up at the moonlit night sky. There, a seemingly drunken Harry was on his newest broomstick, an Ultramax Flyer Mk. IV, dodging no fewer than fifteen Bludgers. Her heart caught in her throat. _This is insane,_ she thought, _what does he think he's doing? _

A golden blur whizzed past her ear, startling her. Harry came zooming after the Golden Snitch, something that never would have left the confines of the Quidditch field during a legal game. Her robes billowed over her head in the slipstream of Harry's reckless passing. She ducked. Too late. A stray straw from the tuft of the besom slashed her cheek. Her hand flew to the sting and when she drew it away dark smears of blood were evident in the moonlight.

She flinched again as a dark shape blew past her head. "Oh, God!" she screamed. The words of _The Lord's Prayer,_ echoed by habit of her partially Catholic upbringing, blundered across her frightened soul.

The swarm of Bludgers in pursuit of Harry blew by her. Every hair on her body stood on end. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done," Hermione muttered as the last of the bewitched balls swished by her. Disgusted by her descent into superstition, Hermione fell silent, her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

Fascinated, she watched as her could-have-been boyfriend dodged the potentially deadly Bludgers. He circled the field, silhouetted by the moon, and just before the Swarm could move to pound him into dust, Harry Potter triumphantly seized the elusive Snitch.

He came crashing to the ground amongst a rain of enchanted balls. Hermione uttered a shriek too high pitched for the human ear to perceive. It wasn't until she saw his crumpled form begin to move and pick himself up from the hard-packed ground that Hermione found the courage to run to her friend's side. 

"Oh, sweet Gilgamesh!" she all but sobbed. " Harry, are you alright?"

Potter's eyes flew open and for the briefest moment regarded her with cool disdain; something she would have expected from Malfoy, but not from her oldest true friend. "What do you care?" he asked in a heart-broken voice before picking himself up slowly and limping away out of the Quidditch stadium.

She could not find the words to express how she felt. In silence she followed Harry at a distance toward the Forbidden Forest before they circled Hogwarts castle. She finally caught up with him as he paused at the burnt out ruins of the site of Voldemort's last stand. The site drained every positive feeling in Hermione like the presence of a Dementor. There was something unnaturally inert about the burnt out ruin at the rear of the castle that seemed to absorb everything both light and dark within the psyche of any spirit approaching it. All color of Hermione's world seemed to be drained at this spot.

Harry stood at what was once the rear entrance of their school. His expression was as empty as the aura surrounding this place. He turned to gaze over his shoulder at the young woman approaching him. "Why are you following me?"

"I want to be sure that you are okay." She rubbed at her arms, trying to dispel the sharp chill.

"As you can see I am fine. I can walk. I am not dead." His voice was robotic.

The witch pressed her palm against her pounding forehead. She didn't know how to respond to that. Yes, her most dear friend was indeed physically intact. But Hermione was not stupid, either on a mental or spiritual level. 

"We both know there is more to being 'OKAY' than the ability to move."

Harry did not reply.

Hermione watched him stand at the edge of the ruins staring at the heaps of charred and melted stone, the place where he had come incredibly close to losing his life. He had lost the closest thing he'd ever had to a father where they stood, and a boulder of emotion lodged itself in Hermione's throat. She wanted to say something to ease his torment and pain, but no words would come to her lips. They both stood in utter silence as they took in this monument of pain and useless hatred.

When Dumbledore had announced the summer program just months after the catastrophe, Hermione had seriously questioned the sanity of the old wizard. Hogwarts had been the one place that everyone believed had been protected from Voldemort, and when he'd attacked that fallacy had been shattered. The wizarding world had been in a state of near-anarchy. No one knew if Voldemort had been vanquished or if he might return. Many families had pulled their children from school and went into hiding. It was after much intense thought that Hermione had come to the realization that Dumbledore had been attempting to reestablish a feeling of safety amongst the students at the school. His attempt was, of course, successful

Her mind swallowed by memories, the young woman leaned against a nearby Oak.

*****

"I'm so sorry, Hermie," said Harry, putting an arm around her shoulders. The touch was welcome, but it wasn't the contact she craved. Harry's caring embrace held none of the peace that she wanted. "If I had known... what he said was wrong..." The young man was obviously feeling guilty for being the one that pushed his friends together.

Hermione knew she should have protested when he kissed her. But she didn't. 

"I'm sorry," he said when they pulled apart. It was obvious from the guilt written on his face that he spoke the truth.

"Don't be," she said in earnest. "I'm not sorry." It was true. She wasn't sorry. The kiss felt nice, though she was unclear of the reasons. Perhaps it was that someone else wanted her, in spite of the fact of the Ron had said no one else ever would. Or it could be that she really was attracted to her friend. Maybe she had been from that first day on the Express, so many years ago. Either way, she pulled Harry in for another kiss, something she'd never done with Ron.

*****

Her mind flash-forwarded to a few weeks later.

*****

It was a perfect afternoon; the air was fresh and cool as it always was after a summer shower. A balmy breeze ruffled her hair, soothing her frazzled nerves. She did not look forward to what she knew she had to do.

He'd told her to meet by the Lover's Tree, and she knew that was not a good portent of what was to come. "Harry?" she called out at she approached the secluded place. 

Harry appeared from behind the tree, a goofy, nervous grin on his face. His dark hair appeared more disheveled than ever, several strands clung to the fogged up lenses of his glasses. Curls of wood were stuck to his robes. "Hey," he greeted. His hands were visibly shaking.

Without thinking on the matter further, Hermione blurted out, "We need to talk."

Harry did not seem to hear. He grasped her hand and pulled her around the tree. "Look," he said, pointing at the _Harry and Hermione forever _carved just inches from Ron's heart. Snatching her hand from Harry's Hermione groaned and pushed her palm against her forehead.

"Why did you do that?" Her voice was cold and sharp.

He looked at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Hermione glared at the carvings in the bark. "This is the _Lover's Tree. Last I checked we weren't a couple."_

"What?" Harry's jaw fell slack and his cheeks reddened as he he'd been slapped repeatedly. "I thought we were… you know, together"

She tossed her hair. "Well you thought wrong! Shouldn't I have some say in this?"

Harry gazed at her in silent confusion.

Conscience crept up on Hermione and she softened her voice. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have spoken up sooner. You are too good a friend to me for this to happen. It's not right."

Taking a step back, Harry shook his head in disbelief, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. "How is love wrong?"

"I don't love you." She paused and took a deep breath. "I mean, I DO love you, but not like that. You are my _friend._" She reached out to touch him, but he stepped away, his face darkening with anger, hurt.

"I don't know what your problem is," he growled, he no longer looked like the Harry she knew. At that moment he resembled a rabid skunk. "No one else wants you, Hermione."

She gasped as the words pierced her heart. Tears sprang to her eyes. Before she could respond, Harry turned and ran off into the shadows of the forest.

*****

Her face once again wet with tears, Hermione walked forward to join Harry amongst the rubble. He did not appear to notice her presence beside him, but still stared straight ahead vacantly. She opened and closed her mouth several times, searching in vain for the right words.

"I'm so sorry," she finally muttered.

He turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you have to be sorry for?" His tone held the slightest flavor of sarcasm.

"For everything." She sobbed. "For Sirius, for hurting you, not being honest when I should have been. Damn it, I'm just so sorry!" She tilted her head forward; her hair fell to cover her face.

"Stop. Just stop." He kicked a stone, sending it flying into the darkness. "I can't stand it when you cry."

"I-I can't help it!" she wailed. "I just want us to be friends again."

Turning her by her shoulders, Harry then tilted her chin up to him with his index finger. "I never stopped being your friend… and I'm the one that's sorry. I'm the one that hurt _you _not the other way around."

She shook her head. "No, I-,"

He cut her off. "Please, just let me finish."

"But-,"

Harry put a finger to her lips. "For once in your life, just listen, okay?" When she remained quiet he continued. "I've been in love with you for years. I should have known better… somewhere inside me I _knew _I was just the rebound guy." Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the look upon his face stilled her tongue. "You were right, you know. Those weeks we spent together weren't right. Yet I pursued it. I was just so happy to believe just for a short while that you could be mine. And then when you gave me that 'friend' speech…" His voice trailed off.

He released her, walked away a few paces then turned back. "Do you know how many times I've heard that? I'm _always _too good of a friend to be a boyfriend. I can't stand it anymore. That day, when you said that." He inhaled deeply. "It just hurt so badly to be hearing it again. Something inside me snapped and I lashed out. Even as I was saying that I wanted to take it back. Damn it. You know that isn't true don't you?"

The young woman looked away, hair sticking to her tear-stained cheeks. "I want to believe that. I really do, but-" Hermione began to cry harder, and then suddenly she was wrapped in his warm embrace. He crushed her to him, pressing her face into his chest.

"Believe it, please believe it," he whispered. Hermione looked up through her tangle of hair and was surprised to see that he was also crying. For a long while there was no sound except the tears they shed together. "Please forgive me."

"I do forgive you."

He squeezed her tight for a moment and then let go. Pulling off his glasses to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, he gave her a sheepish half-smile. "I feel like such a fool."

"I think we both do." Hermione pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. 

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry took Hermione's arm. "C'mon, I'll walk you to your room. It sounds stupid, but I think I'll miss sleeping in the dorms."

Hermione giggled. "I don't think it's stupid. I've had my own room all my life…"

They trudged through the dew-wet grass, neither knowing what to say, but both relieved their feud seemed to be over. Finally, as they entered the empty halls of the castle Hermione asked, "What do you think of this corporal punishment thing?"

"I won't have anything to do with it."

"Me neither, though I hope I'm there when Malfoy gets it." The image in her mind caused her heart to flutter strangely. She hoped Harry didn't notice the flush making its way over her face.

Harry laughed loudly, his voice echoing through the stillness. "Yeah, me too. Though he'll probably run to his daddy and try to sue or something."

As they made their way to the common room they would both share for their last year, the two reunited friends discussed ways they could get out of their responsibility of doling out the physical punishments. Hermione was glad Harry found the practice to be as distasteful as she. Years of physical abuse at the hands of the Dursleys had given the young man a deep hatred of physical violence.

They paused outside of the portrait guarding the entrance to Hermione's private room. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think Ron will forgive me?"

His eyes burned with anger. "I don't think you should forgive Ron," he said quietly.


	4. Torment

Disclaimer: Please see all previous disclaimers.

A/N: Thank you thank you thank you for all the kind reviews. In response to the questions, I am going to put up a mirror of this on aff.net,eventually… and chances are it will be an NC-17, but I won't know for sure until I get to the naughtier stuff. *wink* Yes this is mainly a Draco-Hermione romance, but there is a lot more to the plot then that. I hope you find the non-romantic aspects interesting, too. _Tears_ is developing a life of its own and sometimes even I am surprised where it is going. As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Drowned In Tears

~Chapter 4~

Torment

"You're taking me to _Twelvehouses _on Friday evening aren't you, Drakie?" asked Pansy, between bites of the blue-iced cupcake Draco had just given her from his mother's daily goody-package. Because Narcissa, in her deep concern for him after the summer's events, had replaced part of the pastries with a fresh bottle of digestive potion, there had only been enough for Pansy. Crabbe and Goyle stared on hungrily as the chunky girl devoured the sweets ravenously. 

Draco paused in mid-tear of the envelope that had just been dropped in his lap by a school owl and glanced up in annoyance. His fiancée had the icing smeared around her mouth like badly applied lipstick. "What? What's that?" It was a good thing Mother had included the new potion. He'd finished the last of his old bottle that morning and it was already beginning to wear off. He slowly pulled the paper from the envelope.

Goyle looked on lustfully as Pansy shoved the last of the pastry into her mouth. "Don' shoo know an-fing?" she asked with her mouth full. The visual of the masticating cake caused the bile to rise in Draco's throat. He pushed his eyes down to the paper in his hand and began to read. The sound of her swallowing hard, nearly choking then chasing the cake with a few very loud gulps of milk caused shivers to course Draco's spine.

 "It's the new nightclub that opened in Hogsmeade," she explained, blue-laced milk dribbling down her chin. She wiped it away on her sleeve. As disgusting as Pansy's poor manners were, they ceased to have any effect on him as he read he was being summoned to the Headmaster's Office for an important interview. He assumed it was merely a perfunctory meeting the Headmaster was having with each prefect, but Draco wanted to remain as far from Beane as he possibly could.

"We're going, _right Drakie?" _screeched Pansy, already close to losing her temper because Draco had not immediately answered her question. 

Feeling as if he were about to retch, Draco rose from the table in haste. "Yeah, whatever you want. Pardon me, I have an appointment." He crumpled the missive and tossed it onto the top of his uneaten toast, not even noticing when Pansy immediately snatched it up.

Draco rushed from the Great Hall while at the same time trying not to appear to be in a hurry. He reached one of the many private prefects bathrooms throughout Hogwarts and locked himself in. Slumping onto a marble bench, Draco took a large gulp of the thick, pink digestive potion and relaxed as the queasiness faded. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, replaced the cork and tucked the bottle away. Touching the rubber dropper cap of his other _special _potion for comfort, Draco smiled slightly.

Crossing to the sink he splashed water from one of the spigots onto his face, wincing as his fingers brushed over the tender spot on his cheek where Weasley had punched him. He blotted his face with a towel and regarded his reflection.  What Draco saw was a wan but physically developing boy on the brink of an uncertain maturity.  He felt a subtle yet inevitable and profound turning of his life's machinery upon an otherwise insignificant cog.  The effect was unsettling, like standing upon the deck of a ship leaving the safety of a harbor and feeling the first swells of a vast and fathomless ocean beneath.  What could this portend? What would be the ramifications?

He had his potions and the world was good. He could take on anything; he could do anything. Hell, this new potion even made Granger appear to look good. It HAD to be the potion, he decided, that had drawn him to Granger the day before on the train and had almost caused him to kiss her after the prefects meeting. There was no way that he could actually be _attracted_ to the girl.  

Hermione was a caustic wench, always ready to argue or show off how right she thought she was. Sure, she often knew what she was about and made good sense, but that wasn't the point. It was annoying. He couldn't stand the prissy little goody-two-shoes. And no 

number of short skirts or low-cut blouses would change that.  It was her attitude that made her unattractive. And the fact that she always scored higher than him on tests. Not to mention she was a nosy, self-righteous, interfering Gryffindor mudblood friend of Potter. It was disgusting. It was _pathetic._

_Oh Bloody Hell..._ It was obvious the stomach potion wasn't the only one losing its effectiveness. The familiar, dreaded crawling sensation started its way up Draco's spine. The shadows of the bathroom deepened, darkened, filled with foreboding. An inner cold wound its way up from the cracks of his fractured soul. He shivered involuntarily.

The potion lady on Knockturn Alley had said he could take an extra dose now and again if he was anxious, but how much was too much? Did it even matter? Trying not to spill any, Draco uncapped the softly glowing potion and placed a few drops of the pungent fluid on his tongue. Within moments the feeling of well being returned, and for a brief moment he could have sworn he felt almost like his old self again, something the young man hadn't felt since early summer and often wondered if he would ever feel again. 

*****

The old headmaster glared at Draco from beneath his shaggy eyebrows. "I am going to give you one chance to confess. Should you do so now you will incur a less severe punishment than if we discover that you'd lied." A looked of expectation crossed over Beane's face as he awaited a response from Draco.

_What the hell is he talking about?  _Draco glanced to Professor Snape. His mentor sat calmly with an air of confidence_. _"What would you like me to confess, sir?" he asked, looking back at Sawney Beane with what he hoped was his most charming smile.  

Headmaster Beane chuckled as if in amusement. "Oh, you can't fool me with your innocent act, Mister Malfoy. I did not spend eight years tutoring you to come away knowing nothing about your games."

Draco swallowed hard at the lump wedging itself into his throat, but said nothing. Staring at Beane stone-faced, he reclined back in his chair. He just wanted to this to be over and out of Beane's company.

"What do you have against Packer Fudge?"

Draco cocked his head slightly. "Who?" _Now why does that name_ _sound so familiar?_

 Snape spoke up in a deceptively bored voice. "The son of Cornelius Fudge, Draco. You saw him last night during the sorting ceremony. He tripped and fell, remember?"

"Oh. Yes," said Draco, the realization registering on his face. "Poor fellow. How is he doing?" _He called me down here over a harmless prank?_

The headmaster stood up abruptly and leaned as far over the desk as his flabby fleshy gut would allow, and looked Draco in the eye. "I noticed you glaring at him right before he fell. I know what you look like when you are up to something. I know it was YOU."

Draco's face remained impassive, only the pupils of his eyes widened momentarily.

"Give me your wand, please." Beane's request sounded like the order it was.

"My wand? But...." _Bloody hell…_

Beane turned his malevolent gaze from Draco and pinned it on Snape.

"Give him the wand, boy," said Snape, slowly and evenly, without looking at either Beane or Malfoy.

"But..."

"Your WAND, Mister Malfoy." There was no mistaking the venomous portent in the new Headmaster's voice.

Reluctantly, Draco handed over his magical implement without another word.

Sawney Beane took the wand from the young man and settled back down into his seat.  Turning the wand in his fingers, he peered along its length.  In the midst of this examination he freed his right hand to find a quill and dip it into a handy inkwell.  Draco noticed a sheet of paper before the headmaster, a checklist of some sort.  Beane began to mutter and scribble on the paper as he did so.

"Let's see. Teakwood, eleven and one half inches, rigid, heartstring of a Dracnoire dragon..."

He droned on, writing down his observations on the form as he made them.  Draco noticed a slight momentary glow from the wand that escaped Beane as the headmaster had his head bent to filling out the paperwork.  Draco's eyes betrayed him for half a second, as he suddenly remembered something. _Oh BLOODY BLOODY HELL!_

Beane continued his assessment. "...excellent for glamours..." 

Draco paled and hoped against hope as the headmaster's voice became wooden and mechanically bland.

"...and... and..."

Draco swallowed. Hard.

"...and this is not the wand we are looking for..."

Snape shot Draco a sidelong lance that might have melted a stone gargoyle.

"...you may move along and go about your busi..."

Beane blinked.  Draco wished to be somewhere more comforting, like in the tender embrace of a female mountain troll.

"Malfoy...", said Beane in a dry voice Draco remembered all too well, "...did you _really _think such childish glamours would work? On me?"

Draco drew himself up and made his voice as convincingly honest as he could manage.

"Professor Beane, I have a perfectly good expla..."

"SILENCE, MISTER MALFOY!!" thundered Beane.

Draco looked over at Snape, who appeared to be studying the tapestry nine feet above Beane's head.

"LOOK at ME when I'm addressing you, Mister Malfoy" continued the old wizard.

"Very well. I will finish the paperwork after." He placed the quill in its holder and pushed the paperwork aside. "I can tell, Mister Malfoy, that you are the likely the culprit in last night's unpleasantness during sorting.  I need not REMIND you that the name FUDGE carries a bit more weight around Hogwarts than others. Like _Malfoy_."

Draco did not flinch, but a slight tic appeared on his right cheek.

"This investigation is ended. I have made my judgment.  You will receive your punishment. LIKE A GENTLEMAN." Beane cleared his throat. "Your punishment shall consist of five strokes of the cane for your juvenile antics that might have caused _serious injury_ to the son of the Minister of Magic.  You shall receive _another_ five strokes because you are a PREFECT and supposedly a role model for our younger students.  Further, this punishment shall be _doubled_ for a total of _TWENTY _strokesfor your impudent and futile attempts to englamour the investigation and" –Beane arose and leaned vulture-like over his desk- "TRY TO MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME. AGAIN."

Draco opened his mouth to protest this last, but the looks both Beane and Snape gave him caused the words to die in his throat.

The old leather chair protested Beane's paunch as the headmaster sat beck down. "Oh, and there shall be twenty points deducted from Slytherin house, as well."

Snape made a faint noise like a small horse strangling on an apple.  Sawney Beane did not look at him, but added, "The corporeal portion of the punishment shall be administered _immediately._ Professor Snape?"

The potions professor, who appeared to be struggling to maintain his composure, replied,  "Yes...?"

"You may administer the punishment."  Beane sat back in his chair, a grimly satisfied look on his fleshy face.

"...Pardon?" faltered Snape.  

Beane glared at him and said, "I have delegated responsibility for punishing the boy to you, Professor Snape, since you are after all head of Slytherin and responsible for his moral character. Or lack thereof."

Snape's face drained of all color and emotion as he turned to Draco.

"Assume the position, boy." From Snape's voice it could be discerned that he was not looking forward to what had to be done.

Draco stared at Snape in disbelief. This couldn't be happening to _him._ He was a _Malfoy, _for Merlin's sake!

"Weren't you paying attention at the meeting last night?" Snape asked impatiently, "You know- "

Beane cut him off.  "I'm not surprised young Malfoy here decided to disregard an important directive because he of course never would feel it could apply to _him."_ Although he said this to Snape, Beane's eyes never wavered from Draco. "I suggest you obey the Professor's order, Mister Malfoy, or your punishment will once again be doubled."

Swallowing hard, Draco rose to his quavering legs and looked beseechingly at Professor Snape. Somewhere deep within that hard, emotionless face Draco thought he detected a note of apology, but there was no way to be sure.

"Oh, and Professor…" said Beane.

"Yes?"

"I'm trusting you to carry this out as you would for any other student. Say for instance… Harry Potter."

"Of course," agreed Snape, turning to Draco. He muttered a word under his breath and the willow switch appeared in his hand.

*****

**Found carved on the underside of a desk in the Malfoy Manor school room:**

Sawney Beane 

_Salacious Crumb_

_Shove that cane_

_Right up your BUM!!!!!!_

_*****_

The unusual merry making of the potions class was interrupted by the approach of heavy and rapid footfalls out in the corridor. All went silent within the dungeon classroom as the students realized their tardy instructor was about to arrive and was obviously perturbed. The door burst open and a disheveled Professor of Potions staggered into the room.

He made a beeline past his lectern, past the desks full of students, past rows of potions and potion ingredients, past everything in his focused haste. At the end of the classroom Neville turned around just in time to look up into Snape's contorted, reddened face.  Longbottom went cold, then hot, then frigid.

"_YOU_!" roared Snape, extending a trembling finger towards the cowering Neville.

"You... are... _ABOUT_... _to do_... SOMETHING..."

The whole classroom watched in rapt fascination as Snape sputtered and fumed like wet fireworks. Very large wet fireworks.

"YOU are about to _do something_..." Snape repeated, now perfectly mauve above his high collar, "...AGAINST the _RULES!_"

Neville cringed. "Wha..?"

"That's IT! INSUBORDINATION! Five strokes and five points from Gryffindor!"

 "But…" Neville's mouth hung open like a broken shutter.

His expression twisted into something that resembled glee.  "Five MORE strokes and five MORE points from Gryffindor!" The Professor's chest heaved and he paused, obviously waiting to add more. "Shall we try for fifteen, Mister Longbottom?"

The sound that emerged from Neville's throat was somewhere between a cough and the sound of a tortured giraffe, but he had the sense not to say another word. Snape looked momentarily disappointed before grabbing his trembling student by the arm. "This punishment shall be administered IMMEDIATELY!"  Poor Neville was then dragged, stumbling, to the front of the classroom with the eyes of all his classmates scorching what was left of his pride.


	5. Frustration

~Chapter Five~

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.

To my readers: I would like to apologize for the length of time it's taken to get these chapters posted. Between my old computer biting the dust, my life turning to fecal matter, and a stubborn case of writer's block I haven't done very much writing. My Original Plan was to have this entire fic written and posted before Order of the Phoenix came out. Fat Chance. I was given OotP this morning as a surprise and I thought I would post these two chapters before I began reading it. Because I am planning on revising this whole thing so as not to contradict anything in the new book, and will probably have to scrap large portions of it, I thought I should at least share what I have done. In the next few weeks I plan to rewrite, revise and redo all of these chapters. At worse I will be forced to rethink my whole plot and storyline. At best I will only have to fix bits and pieces here and there. Either way, please tell me what you think. 

Drowned in Tears

Chapter 5

Frustration

Hermione cringed as the switch cracked over the posterior end of Neville. Clenching her hands into fists, she stared resolutely at her lap, feeling so utterly useless sitting there as Neville was once again victimized by the sadistic professor. It took all the willpower she had not to rise against this newest injustice and shove that willow switch where it so rightfully belonged.

By the fifth stroke Neville was blubbering loudly. Most of the Slytherins and even a few Gryffindors were snickering openly at him, which infuriated Hermione all the more. The chubby young man may be a _klutz _and a near-Squib, but he'd never been anything but kind and friendly toward anyone. His Gryffindor comrades should have at least had the respect not to laugh at his misfortune. But what did she expect? The young woman crossed her arms over her chest and ground her teeth together. Had she been treated any better? 

After casting her best _Avada Kedavra _glare at the amused Parvati, Hermione looked down to the row in front of her where Harry sat next to Ron. They'd been speaking quietly about something important (probably her) when the professor had flown into the room. Now they sat silent, watching. Harry's jaw was clenched and veins stuck out in his neck. Ron, on the other hand, looked vacantly flabbergasted as usual. It was odd to Hermione how she once found that vacuous gape to be so charmingly adorable and now she just found it purely irritating.

Movement to her right easily caught her attention and she turned her head. It was Draco easing himself into the chair beside her. Her heart skipped a beat and a half. His eyes were glassy and rimmed in pink, dark circles beneath contrasted against his paler-than-usual skin. He sneered at her and through his tangled eyelashes he peered down, his glassy eyes picking up the candlelight in an almost unholy way. Hermione looked away, suddenly more uncomfortable over that anomaly combined with his red-rimmed eyelids and the stark contrast of the dark circles beneath them. Draco looked positively forlorn, almost demonic… and undeniably beautiful. She crossed her left leg over her right and shivered. The classroom was more uncomfortably cold than usual.

_Whap! T_he eighth stroke connected and pulled Hermione from her daze with a start. Draco's snort was lost in Neville's high-pitched yelp. "It seems this will be the year when Longbottom will become known as _Sorebottom._" Malfoy chuckled at his own humor.

"Neville doesn't deserve this, Malfoy," she hissed in retort, deliberately not looking up, and tossing her mane crossly. "He was set up." She tapped the desk as she said each of the last four words to emphasize her point. __

"Seems there's a lot of that going around," he muttered, as he began to absently organize his potion supplies. His elbow brushed against a book and it slammed to the floor. Snape looked up with a glare, searching for whoever it was that _dared _to interrupt but then quickly returned to beating Neville as soon as he saw it was Draco.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and finally turned to watch Draco ease himself gently into the chair and immediately begin to shift around as if the seat were covered with splinters. "What is _that _supposed to mean?"

Draco bent down to retrieve the fallen book and as he did so his hair floated out to tickle her leg. He had the slippery, silky sort of hair that always feels cool to the touch. She jerked her knee away.

"Nothing." The young man heaved a sigh of relief as Neville's punishment came to an end. _Saved, _he thought watching Snape take his place behind the podium, arranging his notes. He'd already said too much to her as it was. 

Neville tearfully stumbled back to his seat. His hair stood at all angles and he dragged his school robes behind him by the one sleeve that remained on his arm.  Hermione watched with a sympathetic expression as he grasped the backrest of his chair and the edge of the desk, and then slowly lowered himself into his seat. 

"Why don't you sit elsewhere?" Hermione asked. She did NOT want to spend the entire class next to Malfoy. Her upset stomach was already returning.

"Where would you like me to sit, Granger?" he asked, glancing about the room. "Every other seat is taken." He leaned forward and twisted a leg beneath him.

"That's what you get for being late." Turning her head to give him her blandest expression, she suggested,  "How about the floor?" A smirk twitched at the corners of her moist lips.

Draco did not have the opportunity to respond as Professor Snape began to speak. "As this is your final year, you will be learning how to create your own potions." He looked up to the back row. "If that is alright with you, _Miss Granger_." They made eye contact and he glowered.

"Of course, Professor," said Hermione in her most pleasant voice. She grinned at him, he scowled even more deeply and went a shade paler as he suppressed his irritation. Over the years she'd learned that saccharine sweetness was the best way to torment her professor. It was a small triumph, but Hermione relished any annoyance she caused him.

Clearing his throat, Snape went on. "As you are all now familiar with the basic theories and ingredients in magic, I expect most of you to have no difficulties." The Potions Master droned on and Hermione scribbled at her notes, all too aware of Draco's presence at her side. The fact that he was constantly squirming about didn't help matters at all.

"… weeks assignment will be a simple one…"

"What is wrong with you?" she whispered, crossing a T and tilting her head slightly to look at him.

"Mind your own business." He turned his nose up at her and violently dipped his quill into the ink well, nearly tipping it over. His flush was not lost on Hermione, whose curiosity was now fully aroused. What could be wrong that the normally so controlled and aloof young man was fidgeting in such an… undignified way? She watched out of the corner of her eye as he raked a quivering hand through his hair and gave out a ragged sigh.

"Sleeping draughts are among the simplest, as you well know..."

Neville sniffled loudly and she turned part of her attention to him for the moment to watch him fiddle about in his spot. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blotted the tears from his pudgy cheeks while shifting his position several times.

"…grade will be based not only upon the success…"

Neville twisted one leg beneath him in an attempt to take his body weight off his bottom. A realization began to dawn upon Hermione.

"…but also on originality of ingredient combinations…" 

Her gaze shifted back and forth between Neville and Draco several times. She'd heard Draco had been called to the headmaster's office that morning, and then she finally understood why Draco was behaving so oddly.

"…of course will be testing these potions on yourselves, so be cautious…"

Putting her hand to her mouth, Hermione's laugh came out sounding more like a hiccup. She tried to keep a straight face, but found it impossible. Laughing as quietly as she could, a soft glow appeared on her cheeks, intensifying her peaches and cream complexion.

Snape looked up at Hermione sharply as he finished his lecture. "You may take the rest of the period to research your potions." The professor sat down at his desk, withdrew a quill and parchment and began to write, tuning out the class.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" Draco asked under his breath, now thoroughly annoyed for he had caught himself gawking at her for several moments before finally responding to her all-too-knowing laughter. 

Hermione's only response was another torrent of giggles disguised as a coughing fit. Draco pressed his quill to the parchment so hard he bent the tip. With a shaking hand and a curse he withdrew a fresh one from a pocket and dipped it into the ink, this time splattering the black fluid across the desk. Smirking, Hermione opened her textbook and paged through to the chapter on sleeping potions.

Unable to keep her focus on her studies for more than a few minutes at a time, Hermione continuously peered at Draco through her curls. She chewed on the very tip of her quill. Glancing at his sublime profile, a smile came unbidden to her lips. What had he done to warrant a caning on the first day of school? She thought back to the Prefects Assembly, picturing Draco bent over the chair instead of Harry and then immediately shied away from the image. There was something terribly overwhelming about it.

The classroom had become disturbingly warm though Hermione had been frigid just moments before. Her throat was painfully dry. Hermione sat back in her chair; still watching Draco under her lowered eyelids, and loosened her tie. His forehead grew tenser. After undoing the top two buttons on her blouse, she unwrapped a sugarquill. Suckling the confection restlessly, she watched a deep frown meander across his face. A sheen of perspiration appeared on his furrowed brow. He finally looked up. 

"Stop staring at me," he commanded. It was apparent from the expression on his face he had been fully aware of her _perusal _of him. 

She licked the syrupiness from her lips and his eyes followed her tongue. "I'm not." This time she did not look away. 

Professor Snape barked out, "Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" Both of them froze in mid-glare and turned slowly back to the front of the class, each thoroughly embarrassed to have been caught acknowledging the other's existence. Neither of them realized they had been speaking loud enough to attract the instructor's attention. Hermione slowly shook her head to the negative and opened her mouth to speak, but Snape cut her off. "Is she disturbing you, Draco?" His voice was undeniably gentler.

"No professor," replied Draco evenly, shooting a defiant look at Hermione. "She was just having trouble with the assignment and I was helping her."

"I see. How considerate of you. Ten points to Slytherin." The professor returned to his composition.

Her jaw went slack. Not only was she horrified at the thought that anyone would think she was having difficulties in potions, but that Draco had not seized the opportunity to have points taken from Gryffindor. Hermione cradled her chin in her hand and she tried to read. Draco had lied. For her. After she'd just spent the entire class period irritating him. Drumming her fingertips on the desk absently, she stared at the words in her book. 

"Stop that," complained Draco. "It's annoying." He stared at her hand as if he meant to bite it off. 

Hermione thumped louder. "Make me." She lifted her chin and stared him down insolently. Draco's hand snapped out and he grabbed her fingers. Tight. "Let go!" Her voice was somewhere between a hiss and a squeak in her attempt to be quiet enough not to attract any attention. She tried to jerk away but he held on with a crushing grip.

His lips formed a smile that was not reflected in his pewter eyes. "Make me."

Hiding her pain behind a blank mask, Hermione tried to stare him down while using her other hand to try and pry her fingers from Malfoy's grasp. Although the temperature of the classroom had risen to the point where Hermione felt faint, goose bumps had broken out all over her body. Draco's face was impassive, unreadable.

They stayed locked in their silent show-down until Professor Snape barked out, "Class dismissed." As if she'd caught fire Draco released Hermione's hand and jumped back. Muttering a string of expletives, Draco clumsily gathered his belongings. Hermione sat silent, staring into space and attempting to recover her poise. 

One of his books fell to the floor and when he bent to pick it up several items fell from a pocket. "Fuck me," he grumbled, stuffing the things away as quickly as he could before leaving the room.

After a few long moments Hermione finally rose to leave the now abandoned classroom. Her thoughts were interrupted when the toe of her shoe hit something, sending it spinning across the floor. She stooped to retrieve the glowing green potion bottle, recognizing it as the same she'd seen Draco with on the Express.

Tucking it away in her robes, she quickly abandoned the classroom. Just as she mounted the stone staircase, an out of breath Draco came flying down, his robes carelessly hanging off his shoulders. Beneath the disheveled hair hanging over his face he wore an expression of disturbed perplexity. Nearly knocking into her, he breezed by, muttering something incomprehensible. Hermione turned and watched as he disappeared into the gloom of the dungeon. 

Knowing Draco was not going to find what he was in search of, Hermione quickly but casually resumed her trek to the Great Hall. When she thought she was far enough away, she took out the potion bottle and examined it. _What could this be? _There was a strangeness to this potion that both repelled and attracted her, although she could not quite explain what made her feel that way.

The softly shimmering fluid had the viscosity of albumen and clung like algae to the sides of the bottle. She unscrewed the cap and wrinkled her nose at the odor… a combination of fermenting apples and swamp water. Hermione couldn't imagine that Draco would ever ingest something that smelled so badly. Hearing footsteps on the steps behind her, she quickly secreted the bottle back in her pocket. 

 Draco ran past her, stopped and then turned to approach her in trepidation. "Have you…?"

"Yes?" She turned to him stiffly, her face as blank as she could make it. "Have I what?" Her conscience nagged at her, telling her she should return the bottle to its rightful owner, but she just _had _to know what it was. Besides, this was _Malfoy,_ the _enemy,_ the antithesis of all that was pure and good in the world… Why should she feel badly? If the situation were reversed _he _wouldn't give the potion back. 

"Er… nevermind," he finally murmured after a long moment of staring at her askance. _I am sure you have it, _his expression said, _but I'm not stupid enough to admit it's mine. _Her expression did not waver and she smiled coolly up at him, suddenly relaxed and feeling in control. Although Hermione was not a very skilled liar, she managed to leave Draco with a lingering doubt. Draco was gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stalked off knowing he had no way out of this situation… except one, and it was something that he did not find as distasteful as he felt he should. It was pointless anyway, he resolved, doubting even _he_ had the talent to break through her wall of purity.

Hermione stood watching after Draco long after he'd disappeared around a far corner.

When she arrived for lunch Harry was already at the table sitting with Parvati draped across his right shoulder. They were bent over Harry's potions textbook, studying. Well, Harry was attempting to study but Parvati was doing her best to make it difficult by tugging on his hair and blowing in his ear every so often. 

Hermione sat down across from them, and tried not to take notice of the unseemly behavior going on in front of her. If it had been anyone but one of the _Patil _sisters, Hermione would have been happy for Harry.  While dishing out a small helping of salad, the young woman opened her Trigomancy book, wanting to get a head start for her afternoon class. 

Hermione became more irritable by the moment. It was bad enough Parvati was behaving so cheaply, but that it did not seem to be bothering anyone else was much, much worse. _I'm not a prude, _she reassured herself. She was by nature an honest girl, and so could not hide feelings from herself for very long. An ugly face began to form in her psyche. It wasn't jealousy. She realized it wasn't even disgust.

"Hermione…" Parvati purred. A self-satisfied grin spread itself across her exotic features as she mistook Hermione's look of envy for one of jealousy. 

That was it. Envy. "Hello," said Hermione, forcing a smile over her lips. She was envious of Parvati not because she wanted Harry's attention but because she wanted to feel the way Parvati felt for him. Hermione wanted to desire the only person she knew had actually been in love with her. An inner voice constantly nagged Hermione that girls like her only got one or two chances for love, and she couldn't help but to believe it.

Harry finally looked up from his book. "Oh, hello, I didn't see you come in," he said. Parvati snuggled closer and wrapped her arms territorially around Harry's chest. Hermione felt they both were deserving of finding someone. But why did it have to be _her?_

"You're busy." Hermione was unable to keep an edge from her voice, but managed to smile. "I understand." Her chest tightened around the empty place at the very core of her spirit, she felt utterly alone even though she was in the center of a crowded room.

Harry, knitting his brow, looked down at her salad. "Is that all you're going to eat?"  Parvati, who was busy nibbling on his ear paused and stared at Harry with a sour expression at his concern for Hermione.

She nodded. "I'm not really hu-."

Parvati interrupted. "She's got to watch her weight, you know." She over-emphasized the "T" at the end of "weight". Hermione said nothing, but her expression darkened. Parvati stood and tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Harry, love, let's finish studying outdoors… it's so stuffy in here."

"But-" Harry, clueless as always, had no idea of what was really going on in front of him.

The olive skinned girl all but dragged Harry to his feet. "Now!" she demanded.

"Fine," mumbled Harry, annoyed, yet apparently enjoying the attention he was receiving. "Talk to you later, Hermie?" He began to gather his belongings.

"Sure," she croaked out, sadly. Then in an attempt to cover up her disappointment, smiled as cheerfully as she could. Harry looked at her apologetically as he was herded away. Parvati glanced back over her shoulder at Hermione with a look of triumph. 

Sighing, Hermione tossed down her fork, her appetite crumbling. Parvati was such a _bitch. _Who did she think she was? Cradling her books in her arms, Hermione stalked from the Hall. There was no point in staying, and she needed to go up to the owlery anyway for she needed to order a fresh supply of facial soap.

The hallway was nearly deserted and as she walked along, she realized she was being followed. Making an about face, Hermione came face to face with Ron, whose chin was bruised and slightly puffy, most likely from his encounter with Draco the previous evening. _Serves him right, _she thought.

"'Allo, 'Mione," drawled Ron playfully as if nothing negative had ever transpired between them. His freckled features spread into a wide, lopsided grin.

"What do _you _want?" she asked, looking with distaste at his expression. _How could I have ever thought that was cute?_

Disappointment flickered over his face, but he persisted. "How've you been?" He stopped directly before Hermione and leaned casually on the wall, blocking her path.

"Fine," she said curtly. Hermione edged away, trying to smile.

Mistaking the smile for a different type, Ron smiled back and straightened to his full height. "I hope you didn't make yourself over on my account." Brown eyes grazed over her body appreciatively. 

Her eyebrows lifted, eyes widening in annoyance. "Excuse me?" She pulled her open robes closed.

Continuing as if he did not notice her irritation, he went on, "Because if you did, it worked. I'm taking you to _Twelvehouses_ on Friday." He leaned in to kiss her.

 Hermione took a step back, suppressing the urge to add another bruise to his face. "I don't think Lavender would appreciate that." Ron was a frightening stranger. He'd been acting oddly for a long time, but now he was unrecognizable. A spidery, freckled hand grabbed her elbow as she tried to walk by. Hermione froze in mid-movement and tilted her face down, slowly and robotically, to look at that offending hand.

Ron chuckled arrogantly. "Jealous are you?" He slid his bony arm over her shoulders and attempted to guide her down the corridor. "Don't you worry, though… I'm all yours!"

Shrugging his arm from her body, Hermione stopped and turned to face him. "I most certainly am not jealous!" She clutched her books tightly to her heaving chest, trying to control her temper. What was wrong with her old friend? She wanted to just walk away, but she could not. She wanted, no needed, to see that the real Ron still existed. 

"It's pretty obvious you are… why else would you be flirting with Malfoy if you weren't trying to get my attention?" Not understanding the real reason she was gazing deep into his eyes, he approached her again.

"I'm not flirting with Malfoy!" she cried out defensively, backing away.

"I love it when you play hard to get," he purred. Grabbing her by the back of the head, he kissed her roughly. 

Hermione squealed and pushed him away, feeling suddenly nauseated. "Don't touch me!" She reached into her pocket and took hold of her wand. _What happened to the Ron I used to know?_

He grabbed her arm, bruising her. "You can stop playing, 'Mione. I know you want me."

With a flourish, Hermione whipped her wand from her pocket. "_Mutare bufo!" _She growled.

Ron stumbled back several paces as a shimmering cloud of smoggy gray enveloped him. His skin darkened to a muddy green, his freckles rising up, wart-like. Hermione gasped as his blue eyes began to bulge from their sockets as his face flattened and elongated. She felt somewhat sickened yet strangely fascinated when the underneath of his chin swelled to enormous proportions. Then Ron Weasley began to shrink. He looked down at himself, his now enormous eyes bulging in horror at the sight of his fingers webbing themselves together.

"A toad," muttered Hermione when the transformation was complete. "Can I be any more cliché?" Before Ron could hop away, Hermione bent and snatched him up. She held the squirming amphibian eye-level with herself. "See what you get?" she asked, sounding all too much like Mrs. Weasley herself. Ron croaked in response and kicked his legs violently, trying to escape.

Loud footsteps caused them both to freeze for a moment. Thinking quickly, Hermione stuffed Ron into the empty breast pocket of her robes and ducked behind a nearby suit of armor. She peeked out from her hiding place to see Professor Snape striding toward her with something, probably a correspondence in his hands. 

"Severus!" Professor McGonagall's sharp voice reverberated through the passage. Hermione jumped and sunk deeper into the shadows.  Snape paused just inches from Hermione's hiding place and turned. Slipping the envelope into his pocket, he gave Hermione a clear view of the pink envelope wrapped with a shiny silver ribbon. _Why would Snape be sending a Crooner?_ She wondered. _And to whom?_

"I've heard the most disturbing rumor," said the transfigurations teacher, crossing her arms and almost seeming to tower over Snape even though she was several inches shorter.

"And what would that be, Minerva?" asked Snape in a low voice, sliding the letter into his robes before McGonagall could notice.

"We need to speak in my office."

"Can it wait? I was just on my way to the owlery." 

"It most certainly can not!" she snapped. "Allegations of abuse are highly important, Severus."

"Very well." He turned and followed Professor McGonagall the way he'd just come. When she was sure they'd gone, Hermione stepped out from the shadows with a pleased smile. Hopefully he would be reprimanded for his horrid treatment of Neville. Of course she knew he would not receive what he deserved, but it was better than nothing.

Hermione climbed the steps to the owlery. Above her the door opened and a masculine figure appeared, the sunlight creating a nimbus about him and illuminating his blond hair like an angel's halo. The door swung shut with a bang, and his face emerged from the shadows. Hermione's mouth went dry as Malfoy drifted nearly noiselessly down the steps toward her. Pressing herself against the wall, she gave him room to pass.

Draco stopped on the step immediately before her and looked down his nose, his eyelids hanging low as if he were sleepy. "What are you looking at?"

She looked away. "Nothing.".

"Nothing? Is that what I am now?" He moved closer.

_Why can't he just leave me be? _she thought, trying to duck past him. 

Putting out an arm, he obstructed her path just as Weasley had done just moments ago. She looked up at him fearfully. Draco did not utter a word, but instead caught her face in his hand ran a finger along the scratch on her left cheek. She froze. His features softened and relaxed as though in a trance.

"Stop that," she whispered, but made no move to push him away. Her knees quaked, stomach lurching painfully. He cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "What are you doing?" No response. The space around them faded into haze.

He bent forward, his lips parting. _Oh God, he's going to kiss me._ Her mind told her to flee, but her body rebelled by refusing to move. Her skin prickled and burned. As if by their own accord her eyes fluttered closed. She waited. The only sound was the hooting of the roosting owls; even her heart seemed to have gone silent.

Nothing.

He squeezed her jaw with a shaking hand. She could feel the heat of his lips so near all she had to do was flinch and their mouths would meet. His heavy breathing caressed her face.

"Waaaaaaaaaa…" screeched Ron, who had up until this point been content snuggling, forgotten, against her breast. The front of her school robes came to life and Draco jumped back. Ron propelled his little green body out of the pocket and into Malfoy's surprised face, kick-slapping with his webbed feet several times. Draco screamed out in pain and pressed his palms to his eyes. The toad landed with a plop on a lower step and hopped away without so much as a backward glance.

"Filthy mudblood, you _would _be infested with vermin," he muttered, glaring at her with red, watering eyes before storming away.

Hermione, shaky and breathless, retreated to the owlery. Ron would be okay; the spell should be wearing off any time now. She couldn't say the same for herself.


	6. Revelations

Disclaimer: Not only do I not own Harry Potter, but I also do not own Army of Darkness. 

Drowned In Tears

~Chapter 6~

Revelations

Draco spent the rest of the lunch period wandering through the halls trying to get some grasp on what was happening to him. Every time he got near Granger he began acting strangely, perhaps he _was _taking too much of that potion. A few days of not having it might not be a bad thing, but the thought of not having it made his skin clammy with fear. What was much worse was that he _knew _Granger had it. The guilt was written plainly on her face. Someone needed to teach that girl how to lie properly; she was going to get nowhere in life without that skill.

Having nowhere else to go, and tired of walking, Draco went to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class early. Judging by the past, this class was most likely going to be another glorified study hall, which was fine with Draco. He could use the extra sleep. 

Taking the seat at the very back of the empty room, closest to the door, he sat down and propped his feet up on the desk. Stretching languidly, Draco hoped for the sake of the Wizarding world that Voldemort had indeed been vanquished. A whole generation of ill-prepared wizards and witches would be the ones in power in a few years. A smug smile curled over his lips. No matter what happened, however, he and his 'brothers' and 'sisters', the _Heliotropes,_ were safe. They'd all had the benefit of extra-curricular schooling.

But Draco did not expect the return of the Dark Lord anytime soon. His father and his compatriots were nervous, that was apparent through the odd goings on during the summer. Confusion and fear was causing dissention in the Death Eater ranks, and had it not affected his own person, Draco would be pleased with the entire situation. He no more wanted to be Voldemort's lackey than he did Dumbledore's, but here he was pretending to be both. _I'm no better than Lucius. _Draco reached for his potion only to find it not there.

"Bloody Hell," he whispered to himself, slumping in a defeated fashion. He tried to will his mood to rise, but he could not stop the barrage of thoughts he assaulted himself with. Draco knew he _was _no better than Lucius as he gave his father the same grudging respect his father gave Voldemort, and only out of fear. In just the way Lucius had to kiss the bums of the ministry just to maintain his rightful place in society, Draco was forced to pander to the egos of the staff of Hogwarts. He never felt that way with Snape, however. From his very first encounter with the Potions Master Draco wished he'd been able to find a father-switching spell. His father was just- his thoughts were interrupted by a swirl of rumpled black robes and absolute fury.

"Hiding from me, Draco?" asked Pansy, panting hard as if she had just been running. 

"And _why _would I be hiding?" asked Draco sitting bolt upright, his voice cracking out like a string of firecrackers. He looked up at his fiancée, not bothering to hide his irritation. Draco couldn't believe his father actually expected him to marry the hag that stood before him.

She put her hands on her wide hips and stomped her foot. "You're cheating on me!" Her nappy red hair stood out wildly and the heavy makeup she'd slathered over her freckles only made her complexion pastier… She looked like the Muggle idea of a witch.

"What?" _Oh, there's no way she could have found out about Marilyn, _he thought. Absolutely no one knew about the model he was secretly seeing.

"There are rumors all over school!" She crossed her arms and bobbed her head like a brooding turkey. "Just you wait until Daddy hears about this!"

Draco tensed at her threat. The last thing he needed was Pansy going to her father, because he would then go to Lucius. Draco didn't think he could handle that happening again. Putting on his most concerned and caring face, Draco rose and circled the desk to put his hands on her shoulders. "And what rumors would those be?" he said gently, trying not to sound too patronizing. 

"I heard you and Hermione… were… were…" She stuck her bottom lip out and turned her face away.

"Hermione?" Draco forced himself to laugh. "Why would you believe something as idiotic as _that?" _He was going to have to stay as far from Granger as he could, he didn't want anyone to actually take something like that seriously. Just the mere thought of anything more than a truce of mutual hate with the mudblood made Draco's nose itch. 

Pansy continued to pout. "I saw you talking to her in potions," she accused.

"We were _arguing,_" he corrected.

"And you've been _ignoring _me lately."  Rocking her shoulders playfully, she gazed up at him with The Look. A foul taste began to form in his mouth. 

_Oh Bloody Hell… _Draco knew exactly what he had to do, and he wasn't sure it was worth suffering through to get her to leave him alone for a few days. But he knew he had no choice. Gently running his fingers through her stiff hair, he leaned forward and purred, right next to her ear, "Fake a headache at dinner tonight and meet me in the Quidditch broom shed."

She giggled loudly, blushing, just as several reasonably attractive Hufflepuff girls came into the room. Draco stepped away from Pansy; he couldn't help feeling embarrassed to be seen with her even if she was from a proper family and a Slytherin. She was a schlump, whatever that was. Malfoy could not recall where he'd heard the word, nor was he even sure what exactly it meant, but it nonetheless fit Ms. Parkinson who was now seated right next to him. Draco hoped their new DADA teacher did not believe in assigned seating. 

A handsome dark-haired man in his thirties strode into the room. An iron gauntlet covered his left hand, in which he carried a large stack of books. He wore a pair of torn-up jeans, a white t-shirt and an ancient, shredded velvet wizard's robe in a nondescript gray that may once have been blue, purple or green. Smears of what could only be assumed were dried blood were the only decorations on the robe. 

The interested look on Draco's face attracted the instructor's attention. "You gotta problem?"

Malfoy instantly recognized the distinctive accent. "You're an… _American._" His curiosity was now quite piqued. American Wizards fascinated him.

"Yeah," said the Professor. "I'm Professor Ash, and who the Hell are you?" 

The whole class gasped at the teacher's crassness. Draco, slightly offended, but still interested, puffed himself up and answered, "I am Draco _Malfoy."_

"Well, hello Mister Fancy Pants," Professor Ash drawled sarcastically then turned away. Draco, taken aback, silently returned to his seat. "Okay, let's get started. I'm gonna start out the new year with an introduction to cursed grimoires." He held up a large, leather bound book on which was embossed a hideous face. A cold aura of power radiated from the tome. Draco was simultaneously repelled and attracted by it.

Millicent Bulstrode turned around in her seat and looked at Pansy with a cunning grin. "He is gorgeous," she whispered. Pansy nodded in agreement, her eyes wide in admiration as she watched Professor Ash. "And he's _next _on my list," she declared before turning back around and pulling off her uniform necktie. 

Draco wished he'd been betrothed to Millicent. She came from a family just as good as Pansy's, and the girl was gorgeous. She was everything Pansy could never be. Intelligent, refined, talented… she was a royal bitch, but not in a bad way. One had to be strong to survive in their world. But Millicent was far out of Draco's league. She was only interested in older men. There were even rumors she had managed to seduce Professor Snape. In fact there were so many rumors Draco was surprised there had never been an official inquiry into the matter.

"Necronomicon ex Mortis," said the teacher in a booming voice, "The Book of the Dead." Ash's tone of voice had its desired effect. He had the attention of every student in the room, including Malfoy's. 

The Dark Arts professor, who by this time was gaining a modicum of respect despite his eccentric teaching style, held the book aloft. "Bound in human flesh," he went on, "and inked in human blood, it contains bizarre burial rites, funerary incantations and demon resurrection passages. It was never meant for the world of the living…" His voice trailed off as Millicent unbuttoned her blouse revealing the tops of her ample cleavage.

"Pardon me, Professor," said Draco, breaking the thick silence. "But, how did you come to be in possession of it?" 

Ash coughed uncomfortably and turned his head away, his expression taking a distant expression. "My girlfriend Linda and I were on a hike in the woods when we found the house of a wizard who had been studying the book," he said in a wooden voice. "It had awakened something dark in those woods. It took Linda. And then it came back for me." The instructor lifted his gauntleted hand. "It got into my hand. And it went _bad. _As bad as hands can go. So I lopped it off at the wrist." Several females of the class gasped. "But that didn't stop it. It came back. Big time."

"Did you ever find Linda?" asked Millicent in a sympathetic coo.

Ash shook his head. "No…" His voice was almost wistful.

"You must be so lonely." She smiled at him, gazing through her long, thick eyelashes.

"Err, yeah. I guess." He cleared his throat. "But I've moved on." He tore his eyes away from Millicent. "Anyway, to go on. Cursed grimoires have to be treated carefully. The most important thing to remember is that you must say the right words. If you don't you never can tell what evil you might unleash. You might even be destroyed. Now, I want all of you to gather around." He beckoned the class with his intact hand. Everyone stood up and moved closer. Millicent pushed to the front and sat atop one on the desks. "I want you all to watch closely. Every syllable _must _be spoken perfectly." Holding up the Necronomicon, the professor took a deep breath. "Clatu! Verata! Ni-" Ash gasped and began to choke on inhaled saliva as at that moment Millicent had crossed and uncrossed her legs showing him, without a doubt, that she was not wearing panties. "-ickt-" –cough- "-to!"

The book began to writhe and twist in Ash's hands. "God damn it," cursed the teacher. "I said the damn word! I did!" The book didn't seem to care. It levitated high above Professor Ash's head, opened itself up and swooped down to swallow the screaming teacher whole. Then it began to flap its pages like a bird and swooped toward the window. With a crash, it bashed its way through the glass and soared into the brilliant afternoon sky. 

The whole incident happened so quickly the whole class stood in stunned silence watching as the Necronomicon became a tiny black dot and then finally disappeared from view. Pulling himself from his stupor, Draco turned on Millicent. "Bloody Hell, Millicent!" he raged. "We finally get a decent DADA teacher and you had to go and pull _that_."

Millicent tossed her hair, feigning ignorance. "I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about."

Draco snorted. "I'm sure you don't." He picked up his belongings and skulked from the room.

*****

"Uhh… Hermione? Are you all right?" Harry was naturally concerned to find his friend on her hands and knees on the library floor and searching frantically for something. He realized, as he looked down appreciatively at the way her skirt had ridden up, that it was a good thing she was searching the very back of the library. The way her pure white panties were tightly stretched over her shapely derriere would certainly have caused quite a commotion within the male population. Harry could also see that she was quite damp with female excitement and he wondered why.

"What? Ow!" Hermione attempted to sit up and slammed the back of her head on the underside of the table she'd been searching under. She peered up crossly at Harry, rubbing the tender spot. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, trying not to sound as guilty as he felt for admiring her so disrespectfully. _Of course, _he mused, _just because she's my friend doesn't mean I can't appreciate her.  _He offered Hermione a hand to help her up.

"Yeah," she grumbled, accepting Harry's hand. "What were you saying?" Hermione leaned back against the table, still nursing the growing goose egg on her scalp. 

"I just asked if you were alright, I was concerned when I saw you on the floor. Did you lose something?"

"Um, yeah… something like that." She looked around nervously. "Uh, Harry?"

Harry's face grew quite serious, seeing her apparent nervousness. "What's wrong?"

"Have –have you seen Ron lately?" 

He shrugged. "No, not since potions. Why?"

"Oh… nothing. Just forget it." She tried to smile and appear nonchalant, but failed.

"Out with it, Hermione. What's going on?" He pulled up a chair and sat down, expecting a long story. When Hermione was this obviously troubled, the tale was never a short one.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione stared down at her shoes and told Harry about her encounter with Ron that afternoon, choosing of course to skip the part involving Draco. When she was finished Harry burst out with laughter.

"Shush!" snapped Madam Pince. "The head boy and girl should at least have proper respect for the school library!"

"Sorry," said both Harry and Hermione in unison.

Harry took her arm and led her away from the glaring librarian. "C'mon, lets go where we can talk." They walked toward the exit speaking in hushed voices. 

"Aren't you upset?" asked Hermione.

"No. Serves him right. Besides, those toad charms only last a short while, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Most only last about twenty minutes."

"Well, I'm sure there are some that last longer. If he doesn't show up by supper then we'll start worrying. I think it'll do the Weasel some good to spend time as a slimy toad. As long as he makes Quidditch practice tomorrow night I don't care what happens to him."

"Ron's on the Quidditch team?"

"Where've you been? He made it in during spring tryouts. He never told you?"

"No… I banned all discussions about Quidditch after Viktor, remember?" Hermione crossed her arms as they walked and kept her eyes to the floor. Viktor Krum was not a subject she liked to discuss.

Harry nodded, observing her continued nervous behavior. "Yeah I remember. Anyway, it turns out he only botched the trials because he'd get so nervous. He's a brilliant beater. We're sure to beat Slytherin this year."

"That's great," said Hermione, trying to sound cheerful.

Harry sighed. "Why do you hate Quidditch so much? You used to love it."

They stopped in front of the portrait of an owl perched atop a skull that guarded their shared apartment. "Whooo goes there?" asked the owl. 

"Canned Haggis," murmured Hermione. The painting swung opened and they stepped into their study. "I don't hate Quidditch. It just reminds me of Viktor." She sat down at the table and picked up her potions notes. 

Harry sat across from her. "I don't get it. You don't want to be reminded of him, yet you are the one that broke up with him."

Hermione looked at Harry and opened her mouth as if to explain. Fleeting emotions passed over her face then she put her nose back down to the book. "You wouldn't understand, Harry," she muttered.

"Try me," he offered. "I think this is important. You've been acting strangely for months now and I want to know why."

"_I've _been acting strange? Look at Ron!" She snapped the book shut and opened another.

Harry snatched the book away, noting she'd had it turned upside down. "I expect weirdness of Ron. But not from you… you've always been so… dependable."

"Dependable," muttered Hermione as if the word left a foul taste in her mouth. "Perhaps I simply got sick of being _dependable."_

Refusing to allow her to change the subject Harry pushed the topic. "What happened? I'm your friend, please show some faith in me."

She stared at him, her eyes growing wider and wider as they welled up with tears. "He didn't want me." A tear streaked her cheek and Harry moved to rise and go to her, but she motioned for him to stay where he was. "I just want you to listen right now, okay?" Harry nodded. She took a few deep breaths and willed away her tears. 

"How can that be?" Harry asked quietly. "He saved you during the Triwizard tournament, you two dated for a year. It was obvious you were important to him."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I wasn't important to him. _What _I am was important."

Harry looked confused. "And what are you?"

"I'm muggleborn."

"So? What's that got to do with anything?"

She looked at Harry in frustration. "Haven't you heard the rumors? That the magic in pureblood families is dying out and that they need to reintroduce Muggle blood to strengthen it?"

"But that's just conjecture. Tabloid trash. Everyone knows that."

"That's what the Ministry wants everyone to believe. And that's irrelevant anyway. The Krums believe it, and family is everything to Viktor. I was carefully selected to be his wife." Hermione's expression of pain turned to anger.

"That's sick!" Harry was plainly outraged. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I didn't want to tell anyone, Harry, it's embarrassing. It was bad enough I had to hear all the other girls talking about me behind my back, wondering what Viktor saw in me. I thought I was special… but I'm… not."

"Don't say that!"

Hermione stood. "Why not? It's true." She asked in a dead voice.

"It is not!" Harry argued.

She didn't respond but turned and walked to the staircase that led to her bedroom. I'm going to lie down for a while. Wake me for supper?" 

"Sure," said Harry. He watched his beautiful friend leave, wanting to say something to comfort her but unable to think of a thing.


End file.
